


Hidden

by PhoenixSolo



Series: Til The End Of The Line [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Captain America - Civil War, Captain America - The Winter Soldier, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Infinity Wars
Genre: Awkward Sex, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky is damn good at what he does, F/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Nakia loves coffee, Rating has changed, possibly part of a series, tags will change, trigger warning for suicidal thoughts, trigger warning for torture, trigger warning: suggestions of rape, very awkward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-09 23:50:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 23,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14725958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixSolo/pseuds/PhoenixSolo
Summary: Thank you for the moodboard, kyber_hearts-and_stardust_souls!





	1. Prologue

**UNKNOWN LOCATION, SUMMER 2015**

“Your new assignment, Doc.” The closed file slid towards Laila Evans.

Laila smoothed a lock of dark red hair behind her ear and opened the file warily. “Romania? Are you KIDDING me?!”

“Your assignment is there. You are to keep tabs on him and make frequent reports. This man could be an asset and we need to make sure he’s on our side.” Nick Fury paced the room with the attitude of a well fed predator. He had a slight limp and his arm was still in a sling but he was no less dangerous.

“Why me, Fury? Why not Romanoff? Or Rogers?”

Fury grinned, keeping the appearance of the predator. “Romanoff is busy with public affairs and Rogers is still in the hospital.” He put his hands on the table. “Not to mention, as SHIELD no longer exists as we know it, we NEED assets. Rogers doesn’t know this man is alive; last time he saw him, he had shot Rogers three times and was trying to kill him. Romanoff also has history with him and neither can be trusted to keep a clear head.”

Laila leaned back in the chair. “Sooooo you’re sending me.”

“Yep.”

“To Romania.”

“Uh-huh.”

“To keep tabs on the man who tried to kill you.”

“And what part of that was unclear, Doc?”

Laila threw up her hands. “No. I want no part of this, Fury.”

“Do I get to ask why?”

“It’s a third world country in the middle of Europe and I’ll have a psychotic terroristic killer as a patient! What’s there to like?” Laila stood out of the chair and began pacing the room and Fury watched silently for a few moments.

Knowing this was a losing battle, Laila pinched the bridge of her nose. “When?”

Fury smiled a devilish one. “I knew you’d see it my way, Evans. Wheels up in two hours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the moodboard, kyber_hearts-and_stardust_souls!


	2. Merry Go Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _On this broken merry go 'round and 'round and 'round we go_   
>  _Where we stop, nobody knows_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Merry Go Round, Kacey Musgraves

TWO HOURS LATER

_Fuck._

Laila Evans, affectionately known as Doc despite a lack of doctorate degree, sat in the back of a C-130 questioning every single decision she had made up to this point. 

She stood five foot three in three inch heels which she refused to wear and tipped the scales at maybe 130 pounds in full battle rattle. While she had high ranks in marksmanship, her hand to hand combat skills left something to be desired. Her reddish brown hair had a few grey streaks in it, more due to stress than age (which was only 30) and her blue grey eyes scanned the file again. 

“‘James Buchanan Barnes, born March 10, 1917 in New York City, New York, entered US Army service…” Laila gripped the file in an effort to keep it from flying off her lap and certainly NOT because she was on an airplane, a metal tin can flying through the air with literally nothing to prevent it from plummeting to earth should something happen. 

This Barnes character she had heard of only in passing, through the Smithsonian exhibit. She had thought he was dead and until about two hours ago, would have bet money on it. 

The aircraft rattled down the runway and Laila drew in a breath and held it. She put the file away and held on to the webbing behind her for dear life. “Shiiiiii—“ 

“You hate flying?” An accented voice asked over the roar of the engines. A woman with ebony skin and short knotted hair looked up calmly from her book. 

“Not a fan—“ Laila clutched harder on the webbing. 

“Well, in Wakanda, there are flying cars. This is a significant downgrade.” The woman’s eyes lit up with laughter and she smiled a gentle smile. “I’m Nakia.” 

“—Laila—“ 

“In Arabic, that means ‘night’,” Nakia said warmly. “It’s a lovely name. I think we’re leveling out now.” 

The aircraft leveled out. Nakia undid her harness and walked over to Laila, who was still clinging to the webbing. “It’s okay, we’re safe. You’re more likely to get hit by a vehicle crossing the street than to get into an accident in the air.” 

“Tell that to the jackholes that bombed the plane my parents were on when I was eight.” Laila relaxed just enough to adjust her harness. 

Nakia blinked and opened her mouth to say something but Laila cut her off. “A story for another time.” 

“Understood. So where are you going, Laila?” Nakia’s large brown eyes regarded Laila with a curiosity not unlike a child who met a new potential friend.

“Bucharest—” 

Nakia smiled that luminous smile again. “I know it. I’m bound there as well.” 

Laila turned to face the other woman. “It’ll be nice to have a familiar face there.”

“Do you have a ride to where you are staying?” 

“I don’t. I’ll walk since it isn’t too far and whatever gets me out of the airport faster!”


	3. Wagon Wheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Hey, rock me momma like the wind and the rain_  
>  _Rock me momma like a south bound train_
> 
> Wagon Wheel, Darius Rucker

“So what brings you to Romania, Laila?” 

Laila shifted in her seat. “Work.” The car was uncomfortable, but since SHIELD was nonexistent, amenities were… not to be taken for granted. To get a hotel where she wouldn’t be noticed in her search for the elusive Winter Soldier required stealth and stealth required sacrificing comfort for function. A run down hotel in Bucharest was the perfect spot for it.

“What kind of work?” Nakia inquired. Laila’s gruff reply was cut off by a happy squeal. “Oh, a Starbucks! Driver—“ 

The driver grinned. He spoke enough English to point out the Starbucks and McDonald’s to tourists and that was it. He pulled over. 

Ten minutes later, Nakia was gleefully slurping on a vente sized caramel macchiato while Laila gratefully drank a smaller vanilla frappe. Laila insisted on buying a drink for the cab driver, whose protests went ignored as a Kona light roast was pressed into his hands. All three drank their drinks in blissful silence. 

Emboldened by caffeine, Laila opened up conversation . “Where are you from, Nakia?” 

“I am from Wakanda, in Africa.” 

“Wakanda, huh.” Laila finished her drink and put the empty cup in the cup holder. “ What are you doing in Bucharest?”

“Work.” Nakia shrugged. “My ex boyfriend’s father wants to know more about the world outside Wakanda and I was asked to go.” 

“How are you liking it so far?” 

“Well…” Nakia grinned and shook her almost empty cup. “This is my favorite thing so far!” 

Laila laughed and Nakia joined in. The cab driver nervously chuckled, still not understanding the conversation. 

“Where are you staying?” Nakia asked. 

“Some run down joint. As long as it has WiFi and AC, I’m good.” They pulled up in front of a seedy looking motel and Laila stepped out. The cabbie popped the trunk and refused to get out of the car so Laila was stuck carrying her bag and duffel over the uneven lot to the check out desk. 

Nakia got out of the cab and looked around warily. “This is where you’re staying?” 

“Yeah. I don’t have any other resources for work; what I have has to stretch.” 

Nakia blinked, as if such a thought had never occurred to her. “You must come with me. You can stay at the hotel I’m staying in.”

“Nakia, I appreciate it so much, but that’s not something I can afford.” Laila walked into the front desk area and, despite not speaking one word of Romanian, managed to check in, get the WiFi password AND obtain her hotel room phone number. “This is where I’m staying. It’s cheap, there’s a McDonald’s across the street and a Starbucks down the road. I’ll be okay!” 

Nakia pursed her lips. “...if you insist. Here is my number; don’t hesitate to call me if you need help.” She handed Laila a card, which Laila accepted and put in her jeans pocket. “Or even if you just want to get coffee!”

“Thanks, Nakia!” Grateful for one smiling and familiar face, Laila waved as Nakia entered the cab and was driven away. 

Her room was tiny, furnished a full sized bed, an off kilter chest of drawers with a thirty year old television set bolted to it, a bathroom with a stained toilet and a tiny closet. Laila threw her bags into the closet and set up her laptop. 

The WiFi was ridiculously slow but did connect. A message waited from Fury in her inbox, also known as Uncle Dave: _Just checking. Have you talked to Jimmy?_

 _Uncle Dave: settling in, have not found Jimmy yet._

Exhausted from the flight, Laila closed her laptop and crawled into the bed and fell asleep nearly at once. 

——

Laila woke to pounding on the door and someone asking a question in Romanian. It was midday; she had slept for nearly 15 hours. She swore and sat up, then ran to the door. 

The babushka at the door babbled in Romanian and Laila shook her head, not understanding. The babushka rolled her eyes and thrust a package into her hands. She thanked the lady and the babushka turned around and waddled off. 

The package was addressed to Laila in English, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a bow. Suspicious, Layla put the package in the tub and used the broom to untie the bow from behind the bathroom door; the wrapping fell apart. Laila waited a few moments for an explosion and when none came, slowly made her way into the bathroom on her belly. 

In the bathtub were books on how to speak Romanian, as well as a language CD and an iphone. A handwritten note read: “you will need these! -N” Laila turned the book over and shook it—several plastic cards fell out. 

“Huh.” Laila picked up the cards. One was a gift card for McDonalds, one was a gift card for— “Oh sweet, coffee!” The remaining gift card was a Visa card and had a note: “for incidentals. Thanks Nakia!”

Laila picked up the phone and turned it on. It powered up immediately and Laila set about exploring it. It was already programmed and had several numbers in it: one for Nakia, one for the American embassy and an unknown number. Laila ignored the unknown number and dialed Nakia. She picked up on the second ring. “I see you got my package!”

“I did indeed! Thank you!” Laila tapped the phone with the Starbucks card. “Coffee?” 

“I’ll meet you in about fifteen!” The phone disconnected.

Laila jumped in the shower and quickly washed then dressed. 

Fifteen minutes later, a new model black Mercedes pulled up. In the passenger seat was Nakia. She opened the door with a smile and Laila got in. She presented Laila with a vente vanilla Frappuccino and sipped on her own caramel macchiato. 

“Niiiiice!” Laila exclaimed as she sipped. “What does your boss do that he can afford all this?” 

“He is King T’Chaka of Wakanda.” Nakia laughed as Laila choked on her drink, then handed Laila a napkin. 

“Well—that explains a lot!” _And now I’m indebted to royalty, fanfuckingtastic._ ”So what now?” 

“We see the sights!”


	4. Believer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _First things first, imma say all the words inside my head_  
>  _I’m fired up and tired of the way that things have been—_  
>   
> 
> Imagine Dragons, Believer

Bucharest was beautiful. Laila had a thing for old churches, which Bucharest had in abundance, and she and Nakia spent the day exploring them. Laila took a lot of pictures on the phone Nakia had given her of the churches, of her and Nakia, of literally anything that interested her. 

“Are you sure you are here for work?” Nakia laughed after Laila had taken her fifth picture of a nearly six hundred year old church and possibly her 200th of the hour. 

“I swear!” Laila laughed as well and the two women set about deciding on lunch. Curious to try the local food, Nakia selected a cafe. 

As they sat, Laila looked around at the city. It was beautiful and bustling, loud and boisterous. 

It was lovely. 

Laila stood up and excused herself to the bathroom. She walked down the hallway to the bathroom. She finished her business, washed her hands and left the room.

She pulled out her phone to check the time—

—and ran into a wall of solid muscle. She fell back on her behind with a grunt, hitting her head on the wall behind her. “Shit—“ 

The wall of muscle snorted. Laila looked up to the wall’s face—

—and gasped.

Dark blue grey eyes stared at her from under a ball cap covering a mane of lanky brown hair. They were set in a hard, square face lined with several days of stubble. A mouth set in a tense line finished the face. 

It was the face from her file. 

_James Barnes—_ Laila scrambled to her feet, not taking her eyes off of his face. He regarded her warily, slowly easing a hand under the jacket he wore, towards the bulge that Laila knew was a firearm. Laila backed against the wall, eyes wide with fear. 

Barnes eased his hand out of his jacket; it was empty. He evidently decided she wasn’t a major threat. 

“Laila? Are you okay?” 

Nakia was at her side and when Laila turned back to where Barnes was, he was gone into the crowd. 

“Laila?” Nakia followed Laila’s gaze. “What was that?”

“Remember when I told you I was here for work?” 

Nakia nodded.

“That’s work.” 

———

The next few days were spent trying to find Barnes again. Laila prowled around the cafe, hoping for some sign of Barnes. 

“Laila, you are an awful spy.” Nakia sipped on her coffee. 

“Come again?”

“This man clearly knows you are trying to find him; he has probably left town by now.” 

Laila looked out over the river. “I find that highly unlikely, Nakia.”

“Oh?”

“He has nowhere else to go.” 

———

Nakia had dropped Laila off at her hotel. It had been a rather discouraging day: the rain kept people from coming out, which meant that finding Barnes was unlikely. 

The door was opened. 

Laila was absolutely positive she locked it. The door sign had moved from where she had stuck it: there was an intrusion. She dropped her bag quietly and pulled her handgun from its holster in the small of her back. Quietly, she eased the door open and slid down the tiny hallway of the room, finger on the trigger. 

She peeled into the bathroom and slowly pushed the door open into the tiny room; nothing. She cleared the closet as well. 

Keeping her back against the wall, Laila slid along the wall and crouched to her knees to clear under the bed and table. They were clear. 

As she rose to her feet, she heard the sound of cloth shifting and turned the direction the sound came from—

To see a wall of black and a flash of silver. With an undignified ‘eek’ that she would be truly embarrassed over later, she ducked underneath the silver and rolled up against the bed—

Something grabbed her braid and yanked her back. She aimed up, preparing to fire—

The gun was yanked from her hands and she was hauled to her feet. Laila risked the clumps of hair being pulled to turn around and launch an fist into whatever body part it would connect with. 

She hit the assailant’s side and it was like punching a brick wall. The person turned her back around and pinned her against that wall with an arm across her chest; a deathly cold hand grabbed her flailing arm and wrenched it back behind her. Laila cried out in pain and launched her head back. It connected and she heard a curse—

An AMERICAN curse. 

Laila tried to wriggle out of the assailant’s grasp but the hand holding her wrist got tighter and the arm across her chest moved itself and pushed her forward onto the bed and pinned her there between her shoulder blades. 

Laila kicked back with a booted heel and connected with the stranger’s leg. The assailant pinned her to the bed further with his body and Laila had a fleeting terror that the next step would be removal of her clothing. She flailed her free hand and pummeled the intruder with blows that may have been flaps from a birds wing. 

“Are you finished?” 

Knowing this was futile, Laila nodded; the intruder released her arm and backed up. Laila rolled over and found herself staring at the stranger’s chest as he backed away from her. 

Her eyes tracked upwards. 

The man was a shade less than six feet tall, with lanky brown hair to his shoulders and hard grey blue eyes. He was massive, the well toned muscles enhanced by the tight black shirt wore; the arm holster under his chrome left arm was empty. His forest fatigue pants, tucked into black combat boots, emphasized thick, powerful thighs and Laila tried her damnedest to not think of what he’d look like naked. 

It was hard to do so when the object of one’s fantasies was aiming a firearm at one’s head. 

“Who the fuck are you and why the fuck are you following me.” It wasn’t a question. 

Laila put up her hands. “Hey, easy, buddy—“

“Don’t you fucking ‘buddy’ me. What do you want from me?” 

Hands shaking, Laila informed the man that she was going to pick up the file from the floor. She bent over, keeping her eyes on his, and grabbed the file. “Y-you’re sergeant James Barnes, also known as Bucky—“

“The hell I am.” The gun aimed at Laila’s eye wavered slightly. 

“I—I was sent to help—“ Laila involuntarily gasped as Barnes drew closer and the gun pointed at her ended up not more than a centimeter from her throat. He grabbed the file with the silver hand and backed up, gun still trained on her throat.

“You’re not a spy. Definitely not a fighter.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Laila countered, a bit more snippy than one should with a gun pointed at her. 

Barnes raised an eyebrow and put the file on the table. Keeping the gun trained on Laila, he advanced on her and patted her down. Laila squeaked at the contact. “Hey!” 

“Can’t assume you’re not armed. You were looking to shoot whoever was in your room.” 

“Okay first of all, you grabbed my only weapon. Secondly, I’m a psychologist, not a fighter! I only carried out here because it’s—“

That made Barnes freeze. “Who the fuck is sending me a shrink?” 

“Nick Fury.” 

Barnes lowered the gun. “What?”

Laila shrugged. “Believe me, I’d like to know too. You tried to killed him and he still thinks you’d be useful. Can I put my hands down now?” 

“I...I don’t recognize the name. The other guy does and he’s pissed.”

Laila warily side eyed him. “Do you hulk out like Banner?”

“Who’s Banner?”

Laila put a hand on her face. “You have a lot to learn. Look, you’ve made your point with the gun. I’m not armed and I’m not a threat. Just put it down.” 

Barnes holstered the weapon. “All I want to do is be left alone. I don’t want any part in anyone’s experiment or fight or whatever. You can tell this Fury guy that I’m not interested.” He turned to leave. 

Laila played her trump card. “He wants you to help Steve Rogers.” It was a bluff that she prayed he didn’t call. 

The back muscles tensed and Barnes froze. “How do you know Rogers?” 

“Professionally, only.” Laila sat on the bed and thumbed through the file. “From the museum and Rogers, I know you two grew up together and I know that you two joined the army in World War Two. From SHIELD, I know you two and a squad took out Red Skull. You fell off the train, losing your left arm—“ Laila motioned to the silver arm. “—and you were thought dead until a few years ago.” 

The broad shoulders sagged. “I didn’t know who he was until last week.” 

_The SHIELD incident._ “Which means you remembered something about him—“

Barnes turned on her. “You’re wasting your time. I’m not who they want me to be.” 

Laila stood. “And who do you want to be?” 

“Left alone.” Barnes walked towards the door. 

“If you change your mind…?” 

“I know where you’re at.” Barnes looked over his shoulder and grinned a boyish grin and Laila’s knees shook; he was gone before she could say another word.


	5. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And we can’t jump the tracks_   
>  _We’re like cars on a cable_   
>  _And life’s like an hourglass_   
>  _Glued to the table_
> 
> AnnaNalick, Breathe

“So why are you afraid to fly?” Nakia asked on their coffee date the next day. 

“You want to talk about that now?” 

“Just trying to start a conversation. You are distracted enough.” 

Laila took a deep, shuddering breath. “For my eighth birthday, my parents took my brothers and I to Libya. They were diplomats and we were offered a room in Libya to celebrate.”

Nakia ordered a second round of coffee. 

“Our last day there, my brother Joshua wanted to drive so we drove from Benghazi to Tripoli while my parents took the flight. We left early so we could see the sights. I wanted to see the Bedouins’ camels. I’d never seen a camel outside the zoo and wanted so badly to see one.” Laila paused and took another deep breath. “We drove and I got to pet a couple of camels. There’s a picture in my grandmother’s attic of the camel licking my hair and another of one trying to eat an apple out of my hand, but missing. He slurped my whole hand into his mouth and accidentally bit me—not hard—and my brother made me swear not to tell Mom and Dad.” Both women giggled; Nakia tried to picture a young girl with her hand in a camel’s mouth and a panicking older brother and instantly got a visual of T’Challa and Shuri. 

“Josh wanted to watch the aircraft take off and land, so we watched and waited.”

Laila’s hands shook as she grabbed her coffee. It had been more than 20 years but the memories were as fresh as they had been that day. 

“Finally, we saw the aircraft approach. There was a MiG—a Russian made jet—near it but it swerved at the last possible second. The plane blew up anyways.” 

Nakia took Laila’s hands and held them in her own grasp. 

“The official report is that the MiG hit the plane and the pilot ejected but I saw the jet pull away. The pilot served 42 months for it but I don’t think he did it.” 

Laila calmed a little and her hands didn’t shake as much. “Joshua and I went home and he tried his best to raise me. He couldn’t take the guilt; he started drinking shortly after—he was just 17—and took his own life three months later. My dad’s parents raised me.”

“Oh Laila…” 

“For the longest time, I thought it was my fault. That my parents died because I wanted to see camels and my brother died because I was a bad girl that killed her parents because of camels. When I got into middle school, I started getting into drugs, alcohol, anything to take the pain away.” The coffee helped Laila’s nerves as she continued. “When I got into high school, my counselor recognized my grief and lashing out. She turned that energy into sports and music. Mostly music because I am AWFUL at sports. I decided I wanted to help people process their grief and loss so I became a psychologist.” 

“What kind of sports did you play?” Nakia asked.

“Well, I tried softball but that ended when the ball hit my thigh one too many times.” 

“How many times was ‘one too many’?” 

“Once!” Laila broke into laughter and Nakia joined her. 

“Well, I am glad you managed to process your grief. You certainly turned it around productively!” 

Laila smiled. “My grandparents would disagree; they wanted me to be a model or an actress or some such thing and I literally fought them tooth and nail.” 

“I can see that!” Nakia chuckled. “The world is better for you being a psychologist anyways.” 

They both stared out at the street, watching people pass by. “I did it to help people that other people think are broken. To fix people, so to speak.” 

“And this man, this ‘job’, is one of them?” 

“Kind of. I’m been doing some research to see what I’m getting into. It’s...it’s rough.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Nakia bit off a bit of a biscotti. 

Laila shook her head slowly. “I just hope I don’t end up breaking him further.” 

———

Over the next three days, Laila tried to track Barnes down again. She showed up at the cafe—again—and waited every day at around the time she ran into him. He never showed up. 

Nakia gave her a knowing look. “I think you may have fallen and hit your head harder than you thought!” 

Laila snorted. “It’s not like that, I promise. He’s a job, a paycheck.” 

“Keep telling yourself that!” 

On the third day, Laila gave up early. Nakia hadn’t come and it was nasty as hell outside: cold and rainy, and Laila just wanted to go back to the hotel room and shower. She threw in the towel at the cafe after about an hour of spitting, bone chilling rain and walked dejectedly back to the hotel room. 

She stripped out of her wet clothes and slid into the warm water, sighing contentedly, and took a long shower. The warm water was refreshing and eased the cold ache in Laila’s muscles. 

As she stepped out of the bathroom, drying off her hair and naked as the day she was born, Laila heard a crunching sound. She grabbed her handgun from its place by the door and aimed it at the direction it had come from, holding the towel over her chest.

Barnes sat in the chair in a corner by the curtained window, midway through chewing a bite of an apple, eyes wide and taking in the sight. 

“Goddamnit, Barnes, I could have shot you!” 

Barnes didn’t say anything for a second, just stared at her. 

Laila realized she was still naked—and that the towel may have covered up the important bits, but it still left little to the imagination. He swallowed and turned around. “Uh—you, um, should probably—“

“Yeah—Yeah—“

Barnes kept his face to the wall as Laila dressed. Neither said a word and Laila thought she was going to die of embarrassment. 

“So...you—um—you’ve been trying to find me…”

“Yeah. I’ve got a job to do.”

Barnes was still facing the wall. “What exactly does Fury want from me?” 

Laila pulled her shirt over head. “You’re an enhanced individual; Fury wants to keep tabs on all of you.” 

“There’s more?” 

Laila shrugged. “That’s why Fury wants you involved, I guess. You can turn around now.” 

Barnes did, keeping his eyes on the floor until he was sure Laila was dressed. “So how does this work?” 

“What?” 

“This shrink thing. Do I lay on the bed and you sit in the chair or what?” Barnes leaned forward, elbows on his knees. 

“Color me shocked that you actually want help.” Laila snorted. 

“I...I don’t want to be a weapon anymore. I want to be...me.” Barnes’ face nearly broke her heart. “I’ve been a weapon since World War Two. I want to be able to just relax. Go to a concert. Go fishing. Do things average people do.” 

Laila sat on the bed across from Barnes. “Well,” she said softly, “the first thing we have to do is disassociate Sergeant Barnes’ actions from Winter Soldier’s actions.” She pulled out a piece of paper and, drawing a line down the center, made two columns. She labeled one “Barnes” and the other “WS”.

“So what is it that you like to do? You, Sergeant James Barnes?” 

“You can just call me Bucky. It’s just us here.” Barnes—Bucky—smiled. 

Laila felt her stomach clench. The man had an adorable smile and she decided right then and there that she wanted to see it more, that seeing him happy meant more to her than anything. “Okay then, Bucky, what is it that you like?”

“Music.” 

Of all the things she expected, that was NOT it. 

But it was helpful. Laila wrote “music” in the column under “Barnes”. “Okay so what does the Winter Soldier like?” 

Bucky shrugged. “When I’m in that mode, I don’t really pay attention to anything other than the mission. I can’t...feel anything but the orders.” 

“Okay...that’s...interesting.” Laila wrote “mission” underneath “WS”. “We’re gonna do a trade off. I’m going to ask you a thing that you like then a thing that The Winter Soldier likes.” 

Bucky gave her a dubious smile. “Whatever floats your boat, Doc.” 

“So tell me something that you like.” 

Bucky thought for a second. “Dogs.“

Yeah I pegged you for a dog kind of guy. Laila wrote “dogs” under the “Bucky” column. “Now the other guy?” 

“The smell of cordite after a gunfight.” Laila wrote “cordite” under the “WS”. 

They went on like this for another hour, until Laila’s stomach growled. 

“Here’s another for the Bucky column: food!” Bucky laughed and reached for the phone. “I know a pizza place that’s wonderful AND they deliver!”

“It’s time for a break anyways. Pizza sounds awesome, considering I haven’t eaten anything but ramen noodles, McDonald’s and chef Boyardee for the last week!”

Bucky froze in the middle of dialing. “Are you—are you serious? You haven’t tried any of the local food?!” 

Laila shook her head. 

Bucky grumbled something about “youth these days” and finished dialing the number. 

Laila waited as Bucky spoke in Romanian into the phone and about forty five minutes later, two pizzas showed up at the door, along with a liter of pepsi. Laila pulled some paper towels off of the roll in the bathroom while Bucky pulled the top off of one box and ripped it in half to use for plates. 

“Ooh what kind of pizza is this?” Laila saw a standard cheese one and one that had what appeared to be potatoes and—

“Truffles! Try it, it’s delicious!” Bucky held out a slice for Laila to bite off a small bit. 

It was deliciously different and both of them gorged themselves on pizza and soda while watching dubbed old American cartoons. 

“Oh shit, I didn’t know Popeye was still around!” 

“Oh he very much is!” They both laughed at the poorly dubbed cartoon as an absurdly calm Romanian voice attempted to dub over Popeye’s signature laugh. 

“Another one for the Bucky column: Disney movies.” 

Laila nearly choked on her pizza. “You said what now?” 

“What’s that sub company? Pixar? I like their movies.” Bucky took another bite of his pizza. “I find it fascinating how, over ninety years, that Disney went from hand drawing its movies to using computers. The details are just...mind blowing.” 

“My grandmother tried to get me into Disney princesses but I preferred Star Wars, honestly.” Laila giggled at the memory. 

“...the other guy likes war movies. I’m not a fan.” 

Laila sobered up a little. “I can see that.”

“It’s too...I see one of those movies and I’m back on the battlefield, in the war, anywhere the Soldier wants to be but not where I want to be.” Pizza forgotten, Bucky put his face in his hands and his elbows on his knees. 

Laila lapsed into psychologist mode, taking notes on the downlow. “Okay so the last time you watched a war movie. When was it?” 

As Bucky launched into an explanation of where and when and how it made him feel, Laila felt sense of sadness for the man. This man in front of her was not a weapon. This man loved dogs, music, Disney movies and was a foodie, among other things. He should not have been made into a weapon; he should have been allowed to go home, find a girl, get married, have kids, grow old and die in the arms of his beloved like any other man. He did not deserve what happened to him. 

“I’m sorry?” 

Laila hadn’t realized it, but the last part she had spoken out loud. “I...I said you didn’t deserve any of what happened to you.” 

“As much as I’d like to think that, sometimes I can’t help but believe that I do. When I get into a funk, I just imagine the world would be better off without me—” 

“And that’s normal—“

Bucky let out a pained sigh. “—and then last month, it got too much and I tried to put a bullet in my head.” 

Laila covered her mouth with a hand and tears welled in her eyes. Bucky continued, a hitch in his voice.

“I...I held the loaded gun to my temple and tried to pull the trigger—“ Bucky put his head in his hands. “—and the other guy, the Soldier, he pulled the gun away at the last second. I could feel the heat from the round as it passed.”

He was silent for a few seconds. “I tried again, but I put it under my chin. This time, the Soldier wouldn’t let me pull the trigger.”

Laila could not imagine the desperation Bucky had felt, just to be rid of the evil entity in his head. She had heard of Banner and his attempt, eerily the same action, and how the “other guy” had spit it out. 

“What...did he say anything?” 

Bucky nodded. “He...he said ‘the mission isn’t done’.” 

Laila’s eyes widened. 

This was almost exactly what she had read about Banner and the Hulk. The primitive parts of the brain, the ones responsible for survival, had been taken over in both Banner’s and Bucky’s brains. Both the Hulk and the Soldier wanted to live, yet their hosts didn’t want to do so if it meant living with the other entity. 

“Bucky…” 

“I’m not done, Laila.” Bucky looked up at her. “My life isn’t over yet.”


	6. Landslide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Oh, mirror in the sky  
>  What is love?  
> Can the child within my heart rise above?  
> Can I sail through the changin' ocean tides?  
> Can I handle the seasons of my life?_
> 
> Landslide, Dolly Parton 
> 
> [sorry or short update, work got crazy]

After Bucky went back to...whatever the man called home, Laila sat down to go over her notes. Her computer pinged with a new message—Fury was demanding to know what the hold up was with “Jimmy”. 

_I just found him. Sat with him today. Haven’t brought up subject of coming home yet._

_Rumor mill in Europe is going crazy. Be careful._

_Will do._

Laila snapped the computer shut and pulled out a pencil and paper. She preferred the scratch of graphite on paper to the ticking of keys for taking notes; from what her mentor said, typing just made irritating sounds and that kind of defeated the purpose of therapy. 

_“Prone to bouts of depression”_

_“Suicidal tendencies”_

_“Violent when provoked”_

Why Fury wanted this man on his team was beyond her but Laila was determined to help Bucky, even if it was to help him sort out everything in his head. Even if Bucky didn’t end up on the Avengers, he still deserved to be happy. 

Now for an agenda for the next week. If Bucky randomly showed up, she’d ask about music again and the next session would be specifically about music and how helpful it would be. 

It was late evening when Bucky left, so nothing was going to get done today. Laila packed away her notes and the leftovers and fell asleep. 

———

_She woke up on a battlefield. Death, blood, fire and smoke surrounded her._

_At her feet was Captain America, known to her as Steve Rogers. He was dead of a gunshot to the heart. His blue eyes stared vacantly out of a pale face and blood dripped from his mouth._

_Laila looked down at the sudden weight in her hands. It was a rifle, an M16; she recognized it from training. It was smoking and warm from having just been fired._

_Many other things struck her at once: her hands and arms were not hers. They were larger—a man’s hands. The left one was silver metal._

_In the reflection of the metal arm, she saw her face; it wasn’t hers either. It was that of Bucky. Stubble line his cheeks and dirt decorated any spot that wasn’t covered by the stubble._

_Laila turned Bucky’s body around. She saw herself staring back with tears in her eyes. She held a handgun and was aiming it at Laila/Bucky’s chest._

_Laila/Bucky put the M16 down at her side and walked up to the other Laila. She took the other Laila’s hand, the one with the gun, and brought it up to her chest, where her heart would be._

_“Do it,” Laila/Bucky said softly. “It’s the only way I can atone for the wrongs I’ve done.”_

_The other Laila’s eyes hardened. There was the sound of a gunshot and a flash of light._

_The last thing Laila/Bucky saw as she sank to her knees was the grim determination on the other Laila’s face._

———

Laila sat up in the bed in a cold sweat. She looked down at her chest; nothing. Breathing heavily, she dragged herself to the bathroom and washed her face. 

It was the wee hours of the morning and sunlight peeked through the clouds. Laila shuddered at the memory of the dream then reached for her notebook.

One of her teachers told her that writing down dreams that stuck was therapeutic. Laila wrote down every detail, from the time of day to colors to smells, everything that came to mind. 

Once that was done, she turned her attention to the book and CD Nakia had given her. She had learned enough to ask for cost, coffee and directions, but she was curious for more. She cracked open the book to the “handy phrases” section. 

“Pu-puteți s-să vor—vorbiți mai rar?” Speak more slowly, please. A handy phrase. Laila went over that phrase several times until she was certain it sounded just like the voice on the CD. 

“Vorbiți engleză?” Do you speak English? A VERY handy phrase. Laila committed that one to memory. 

By the time she had memorized two other phrases, it was nearing lunch time. Her phone chirped; a text from Nakia requesting a lunch date. Laila smiled; it would get her out of the house and her mind off of Bucky. 

———

“So why was there a man climbing out of your window yesterday?” 

Laila nearly choked on her sarmale. “What??”

“I went out for a run by your hotel and saw a man climbing out of your window.” Nakia reveled in Laila’s shocked face and fought back a giggle. “Is he your ‘job’ still?” 

“I swear, Nakia, we were working—I promise!” 

“Working, sure.” Nakia gave Laila a sly look. “A cute, well built man coming out of your room by the window is ‘working’.” 

Laila knew Nakia was teasing but it still rankled her. “It’s purely professional, I swear.”

“I know, I know.” Nakia sipped more of her coffee and the two women sat in the cafe watching the people pass by. 

After a few minutes, Nakia spoke again: “It doesn’t help that he’s cute.” 

“Just how good a look did you get of him, Nakia??”


	7. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I hurt myself today_   
>  _To see if I still could feel_   
>  _I focus on the pain_   
>  _The only thing that’s real_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Hurt, Johnny Cash

“Okay so you’re a music lover, right?”

Bucky looked up from his pizza. “Yeah.” The pizza was from the same place, just a different flavor: today’s was pepperoni. Laila wanted something different and got a pasta dish instead. 

It had been about a week and a half since their last visit and Laila was more determined than ever to catch up with Bucky and his state of being.

“What’s the last song you heard that made you feel something?” Laila opened her laptop and opened up YouTube. 

“I’m not sure. It’s been a while since I listened to anything.” 

“Okay, let me pull up some songs.” Laila had spent the previous two hours compiling a list of songs to add to her playlist before Bucky showed up at her window like a stray cat. “This first one is a personal favorite. Listen to it and tell me if it strikes a chord with you.” 

The opening chords of Duality by Slipknot came through the laptop’s speakers. They listened for a few moments and Bucky shook his head. “Nothing.” 

“What about this one?” Ten Thousand Fists, the Disturbed cover. 

“Cool song but no.” 

Several songs later, Laila switched over to the slow list. “This one I could listen to for hours.”

Bucky, who was beginning to tire of this whole charade, perked up as the strains of Hurt, the Johnny Cash cover filled the room. He came over to sit by Laila and watched the music video with her.

“Who is that?” 

“Johnny Cash. He was a big country singer in the 60s and 70s.” 

_“—I wear this crown of thorns—“_

“Turn it up.” 

Laila did and Bucky watched the music video, enraptured.

It was a simple video, just an elderly man sitting in a chair, strumming a guitar and singing with a smooth baritone voice. 

“How have you not heard this, Bucky?”

“American music is hard to get over here and anything we do get is mostly hip hop. What’s this guy’s story?” Bucky paused the video and turned to Laila. 

Laila pulled up a Johnny Cash playlist then googled “Johnny Cash” and pulled up his information and Bucky spent the next hour absorbing it like a sponge as Laila texted Nakia about plans for that night. Nakia was busy that night but Laila NEEDED to get out of the hotel. She felt restless and hated being cooped up.

Nakia texted back: “I loaded up your card, go DO something!”

“That’s it!” Laila jumped at Bucky’s outburst. “That’s the song!” 

Hurt was playing for the second time. Laila nodded. “It suits you.” 

“It’s incredible. I can’t…” 

“It’s a cover.” Laila stood next to the chair Bucky was sitting in. “The original song was done by Nine Inch Nails. Trent Reznor was so impressed by Johnny’s rendition that he signed over the rights to the song to Cash’s estate.” She brought up the original and Bucky listened to that one as well. 

“It’s okay but I like Cash’s version better.” 

“Same here.” 

Bucky sat back in the chair. “Cash’s version seems more meaningful. I can’t describe the symbolism...I just don’t have the words.” 

“Ya know, I think that’s most people’s reaction to that song.” Laila flung open the curtains. “Let’s go out. Let’s do something.” 

Bucky raised an eyebrow. Laila caught his glance and blushed. “I promise you, it’s professional! I’ve been stuck here in this room for a while and I’m bored out of my skull. I want to go experience Romania.”

“Oh REALLY.” Bucky gave her a mischievous grin. 

An hour of frantic packing, two light jackets and one truck borrowed from the hotel owner’s son later, Laila found herself riding shotgun on the bench seat as Bucky tore down the highway out of Bucharest. He shifted the battered truck into third gear and revved it into the red and Laila rolled down her window. 

“Wow, what a beautiful city—“ 

“You’ve seen the city.” Bucky grinned. “I’ve seen you around with...Nakia, is it? We’re going into ROMANIA, the countryside.” 

Some time later, he pulled over the truck to fill it up. Laila had dozed off as the city faded in the rear view mirror and woke with a jolt as Bucky shut the door. 

She was greeted by a range of snow capped mountains to her left, plateauing to her right into a green plain; beyond that lay the Black Sea. The sun was high in the sky and gave her a clear view of everything. “Wow. This is beautiful.” Laila got out of the truck, startling Bucky, and walked over to the road, then stood staring at the scene. “Where are we?”

“Just outside Buzau.” 

Unbeknownst to her, Bucky wasn’t staring at the scene. 

He was staring at her.


	8. Dark Side Of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I gave my everything_   
>  _For all the wrong things_   
>  _In this cold reality I made_   
>  _This selfish war machine_
> 
> Coheed and Cambria, Dark Side Of Me

They were jolted out of their awe of the scene by the rumbling of motorcycles as a herd of them poured into the station. They took up the remaining pumps. Laila counted about eight. 

The hair on the back of Laila’s neck stood up and she was fairly certain Bucky was tensing up. She began walking back to the truck and was almost there when a biker whistled seductively at her. 

She froze and looked towards Bucky, mouthing “don’t” as his face darkened. The whistler approached her from her side and wrapped his arm around her, speaking in Romanian. She shook her head and the biker smiled coyly. He was potbellied and massive and stank of petrol, cigarettes and sweat. Laila saw several tattoos on his neck, including an octopus with a skull head. She vaguely recognized it but wasn’t sure from where.

Bucky spoke up in Romanian and the whistler looked towards him. Whistler let go of Laila and shouted at Bucky. 

Bucky walked around the truck and stood clenching his fists. Laila knew that he was looking to fight something or someone and she was trying to avoid one. She shook her head again. 

Bikers began to gather around and whistler interposed himself between Bucky and Laila, then threw himself at Bucky, shouting curses. 

Bucky waited until the man was within arms reach, then reared back his right fist and punched the man in the stomach. He went down like a sack of potatoes. 

All hell broke loose. The remaining seven bikers surged towards Bucky. 

Laila tried to run around the fracas but one of the bikers grabbed her arm. She whirled around and slapped him in the face and surprised, he let go. She ran from him before he could figure out what happened. 

Bucky was clearly handling things fine on his own, having broken one biker’s nose and another’s jaw, but Laila still hated their odds. She dove behind the truck and flung open the door. 

The door to the station came open and the owner stepped out and waved a shotgun. He shouted something in Romanian and Bucky put up his hands, trying to appear non threatening.

The bikers weren’t as understanding of business etiquette. One of them produced a handgun and began firing at the owner. The owner ducked back into the store for cover then returned fire. A biker dropped, making the odds a lot more even and two jumped at Bucky. 

Laila opened her bag and pulled out her Beretta. She aimed over the hood and fired at the biker who was trying to sneak around. The owner let off another round and another biker hit the ground. 

Of the eight bikers, three remained on their feet: the two fighting Bucky and a third, a little more than a kid. He held a pipe and approached Bucky from behind as he punched out one of the bikers and put the other in a headlock. 

Laila shouted a warning but there was no way Bucky would see it on time, let alone react. The biker was distracted enough by her shout to give her enough time to interpose herself between him and Bucky and Laila realized she may have bitten off more than she could chew. The biker may have been a teenager but he still had height, weight and reach on her. He charged her and Laila stepped aside—

—far too late. The biker caught her about the waist and bore her to the ground. Laila caught his wrist before he could bring the pipe down onto her head. 

The kid was inexperienced in hand to hand, Laila could tell. He was raised up enough off her body for her to punch him in the groin. He shrieked and the dropped the pipe, then rolled off of her. Laila grabbed the pipe as a weapon and tore over to where Bucky was still tangling with the biker. 

During Laila’s scuffle, one of the other bikers, bleeding from the nose and missing several teeth, had recovered enough to pull out his handgun and fire a round at the owner. It missed but Laila didn’t see the owner pop up again.

Laila hesitated on who to go for first, then went for the biker with the gun. She brought the pipe down on the biker’s forearm and he howled at the crunching sound, dropping the gun. 

Bucky had looked up at the sound of the shot and the biker in the headlock rammed his elbow into Bucky’s stomach. Instinctively, Bucky let go and brought his metal fist down on the man’s back. 

Laila stood up and looked at the scene around them. “Well shit.” 

“Yeah, I think it’s time to g—GET DOWN!” Bucky threw his right arm over Laila, driving her to the ground. The glass window of the truck shattered and Laila heard metallic thumps as rounds struck the truck. Bucky grunted then threw open the door to the truck and shoved Laila inside. He had left the keys in the ignition and Laila, grateful for being taught to drive stick, started the truck and slid over for Bucky. 

Bucky took the wheel, holding his left arm up to block rounds as he turned the wheel. “Shift!” Laila shifted to second gear as Bucky mashed the clutch pedal. 

“SHIFT!” Third gear and Bucky was bearing down on the biker who was shooting at them. The rounds shattered the windshield, ricocheting off his arm and Bucky released the wheel to push Laila to the floorboard. He missed her back since she was already down and grabbed the wheel. “Fourth!” 

Laila slammed the shifter into fourth gear and the engine jumped. She felt more than heard the truck hit the shooter and Bucky swore as the contact knocked out what was left of the windshield. The truck stalled and came to a halt just before it went over the edge of the road. It was a shallow hill but Bucky would prefer to not have to push the truck back up it. 

Laila extracted herself from the floorboard and left the truck. “Holy shit.”

The truck had been borrowed battered but now it was missing its windshield and windows and had more bullet holes in it. “Now what?”

There was no response. Fearing the worst, Laila walked over to the driver’s side. 

Bucky was sitting straight up, both hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead. His right hand was white knuckled and his left bent the wheel where he was gripping it. He was staring ahead, breathing evenly, focused. 

“Bucky?” Laila approached the vehicle. She saw blood drip down his left arm and moved to look for the source. 

As soon as she put her hand on Bucky’s arm, she realized he was in Soldier mode. His eyes were glazed and seemed to stare right through her. Emotionless, he grabbed her throat and began to squeeze. 

“Bucky—nghh—“ Knowing that punching or hitting him would likely result in her neck being snapped, Laila took the chance—and punched him in the nose. The Soldier’s head snapped back and his grip lessened but did not release. She braced her feet against the truck and pushed back, yanking herself out of his grip and landing ungracefully on her butt. She scurried back as the Soldier kicked open the door and advanced on her.

 _Fuckfuckshitfuck—_ Her hand brushed something hard—her handgun. She grabbed it and aimed at Bucky’s chest. The Soldier grabbed it and ripped it out of her grasp then grabbed her by the throat. He whirled her around, then pulled her against his chest, his metal arm locked around her throat and his flesh one in her hair. 

_“Stop—she’s a friend!“_

_She hurt us._

_“You had her by the neck! What did you think she was going to do?!”_

_She broke our nose._

_“It’s just a little tender, it’s not broken. Let her go—“_

Out of sheer panic, Laila reverted to defense mode. She elbowed the Soldier’s solar plexus then stomped down on his instep. When he released her, more from surprise than actual pain, she threw her elbow back, hoping to connect with his nose. She missed and ended up hitting his chest instead. 

Then she whirled around and kicked him in the crotch with the heel of her foot. The Soldier went down with a “whoof” sound. 

That bought Laila enough time to search for a weapon—another pipe. 

_Now she REALLY hurt us._

_“Please, just let me back in control—“_

_The Soldier yields, retreating back into the host’s mind to nurse wounded pride with a newfound respect for this scrappy little thing._

Laila stood over the Soldier, pipe in hand, ready to bring it down on his back. He twitched and Laila shrieked a little and brought the pipe down in an overhead arc. 

The man caught it in his left hand and stared up at her. Pain was evident in his eyes. “Whoa, hey there, firecracker, I’m back.”

“Prove it—“ 

Bucky tried to stand up, but collapsed to his knees from the pain in his groin. “The fuck did you hit me with, a Mack truck?!” 

Laila jerked the pipe out of his grasp and swung it back laterally. 

“Okay look, did you really think that would work on the other guy?” 

“I don’t know, I thought cranial recalibration would wake you the fuck up,” Laila retorted. 

“And you decided recalibrating my balls would be a better option?!” 

“How the fuck was I to know?! You tried to fucking kill me!” 

That caught Bucky’s attention and he froze, remembering the internal conversation he had with the Soldier. “Shit—are you okay?” He rose shakily to his feet and started towards her; she shifted the pipe again.

Bucky got a good, hard look at Laila’s face. 

The woman was absolutely terrified. Tears coasted down her face and she was covered in tiny scratches from the shattered glass. There was a raw, red mark on her neck from his hand. She was jumpy as hell but Bucky didn’t blame her. 

And that hurt worse than the kick to the groin. 

This woman was trying to help him and he had hurt her, could have killed her. “God—Jesus—Laila, I’m sorry—he took over, I couldn’t stop him—fuck—I’m so sorry—“

Laila lowered the pipe as a realization hit her. “But you did stop him.” 

Bucky turned his eyes to her. “But your neck—“

“Would have been snapped if you had completely lost control.” Laila dropped the pipe. “I’d have been dead if you hadn’t done whatever you did in your head.” 

She held out her hand to Bucky, who accepted it and stood up. 

“We need to come up with some kind of code that will tell your other guy that someone is a friend. A physical touch or something like that.” 

“Could it not be a kick to the nuts? That’s not fun.” 

Laila snorted. “I can’t promise that. Let me look at your shoulder.” 

“In a minute. We’ve got to get moving.” Bucky pointed at the mess they had made. “Whoever isn’t dead is going to get up and we do NOT want to be around for that.” 

“Probably a good idea.” They gathered up the firearms that weren’t destroyed and put them in the truck. Since there weren’t any serious wounds, Bucky drove about an hour before they stopped again. 

Laila had Bucky pull over at another gas station and she sat him on the tailgate. The wound was hardly even a flesh wound; it was just a scratch from glass. “We got lucky as shit, Laila. I don’t know how we walked away but we’d better keep on walking.” 

“I’d rather take the truck, thank you.” Laila bought a couple of water bottles from the station vending machine and a box of bandaids and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide from the attendant. “So how mad do you think the hotel owner is going to be when she sees the truck?” 

“I wouldn’t worry about it. Truck is ours; she actually sold it to me.” Bucky snickered. 

“Well that’s good. Let me see your shoulder.” 

Bucky stripped off his shirt and Laila’s breath caught in her throat. He was muscular and toned and hairless with skin a pale bronze. He had bruises and cuts from the scuffles and from where Laila elbowed him. “Um…okay—“ _deep breaths, you’re just cleaning him up, not—_

Her fingers ghosted over his chest as she worked and Bucky froze. _Holy shit—_

“Thank you.” 

“For what?” 

Laila fought the urge to look up into Bucky’s face; she felt that if she did, she’d fall down into his blue eyes and never come out. “Kicking ass, taking names, saving my life.” 

“You’re not so bad in a fight yourself. You covered my ass too.” _Wish you’d touch it—_ Bucky shook his head to clear out the thought. She was here to help him, not sleep with him. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?” 

Laila worked in silence for a few moments. “I got into a lot of trouble in school.” 

“What happened?” 

“My parents died in a terrorist attack when I was eight and my brother committed suicide shortly afterwards. I grew up with my dad’s parents. Kinda acted out in school a lot and when you’re as small I was—am—you develop a little bit of an attitude.” 

“A little bit, sure, okay—ow!” Bucky flinched as Laila pulled a small sliver of glass out of his shoulder. 

“My pop pop told me my mouth wrote too many checks my fists couldn’t cash, so he let me watch WWF but only when my nana wasn’t around.” 

“That explains the pipe.” 

“He’s the one that encouraged me to go into SHIELD. Nana wanted me to be a model.” Laila chuckled. “Right, like I could be a model.” 

_Don’t do it, James Buchanan Barnes, don’t you say it—_ “I think you’d have been a great model.” _Way. To. Go._ Bucky wasn’t sure if it was his brain or the soldier’s speaking but either way, he wanted to disappear. 

Laila finished applying a bandaid to Bucky’s shoulder, hiding the red that was creeping on to her face and neck. “Okay, moving on— I didn’t score real high in hand to hand; I didn’t use SHIELD’s techniques, so I barely passed.” 

Bucky mercifully pulled his shirt back on. 

“Well, when you’re in an actual fight, technique doesn’t matter. Something like what we just did?” Bucky pointed a thumb over his shoulder in the direction they had come from. “Rules go out the window for that. People don’t give a shit about any ‘rules’. The only thing that matters is getting out alive.” 

“Like my least favorite drill sergeant said: everything goes to hell once the first bullet is fired.” They got back in the truck and Laila packed away the bandaids. 

“Least favorite means they were the best,” Bucky said with a chuckle. “What’s the first thing you do after a fight like that?” 

Laila startled. “That’s...actually my first one.” 

“You’ve got a lot to learn, Laila Evans.” Bucky started the truck and began driving.


	9. I Don’t Want This Night To End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I’m so glad you trusted me_   
>  _To slide up on this dusty seat_   
>  _And let your hair down_   
>  _Get out of town..._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Luke Bryan, I Don’t Want This Night To End

“Okay so what do YOU do after a fight, Sergeant Barnes?” From a sitting position, Laila couldn’t really put her hands on her hips but she did raise an eyebrow. 

“I get a drink.” 

The psychologist in Laila bristled. “That’s not exactly healthy.” 

“Well, I can’t get drunk.” Bucky shrugged. “Side effect of the serum. I can’t do anything that’ll affect the average person’s sobriety; it won’t take effect. I can’t get drunk, I can’t get high, I can’t have any type of medication…” 

“So what happens if you get seriously injured?” 

“Never happened, but from what I know of Cap’s injuries” _—that I inflicted—_ “it just takes a shorter time to heal.” 

“So basically, you’re the designated driver.” Laila rubbed her hands gleefully. “Healthy or not, I’d kill for some whiskey right now.” 

Bucky outright laughed. It was a beautiful, genuine laugh. “What happened to that psychologist brain?” 

“Well, a drink is better than the alternative—“ Laila stopped right there. The alternative for burning off the adrenaline from the fight was much more animalistic and involved a partner. 

And Bucky knew that. While the Soldier was more than willing to burn off adrenaline in that fashion, he was more logical. He changed the subject as they drove down a hill. “Hey, have you ever seen a Romanian music festival?” 

Laila perked up. 

On the left, in a clearing, was a gathering of people in ethnic Romanian clothing. Strains of music reached Laila’s ears, violin heavy and percussion light. Bucky pulled the truck off of the road and listened for a bit. “I take that back, it’s not a festival, it’s a wedding.” 

“Let’s go, I don’t want to crash it.” 

Before Bucky could agree and before they could move the truck, guests of the wedding found them. And before they could object, Bucky and Laila were pulled into the wedding party. 

It was a beautiful ceremony. The vows had already been exchanged and this was the afterparty, Laila had found out. She was pulled into a group of women, one of whom pressed a glass of something strong into her hand, as they gossiped in Romanian. Laila shrugged and used the one phrase she actually remembered from the Romanian book: “I don’t speak Romanian, I speak English.” 

The women squealed and Laila found herself being pulled into a tent. The older women stripped her down and, despite Laila’s protests, dressed her in a beautiful skirt and shirt, topped with some kind of vest. “What—Hey! I’m not getting married—!”

The one woman who spoke marginal English looked at her and said: “Pictures! You take, remember!” 

The women squealed again and Laila was pulled out of the tent and into the party again. 

“Well this beats a fight any day of the week,” Bucky exclaimed, a cup of some kind of liquor in one hand and a piece of baklava in another. He was sitting on a bench, surrounded by older men and laughing and joking in Romanian with them. 

Then, when an old grandfather nudged him in the ribs and pointed, he looked up— “Laila? What—“

Looking very uncomfortable but absolutely stunning in a traditional Romanian dress and with her dark auburn hair loose to her shoulder blades, Laila shifted. “I didn’t really have a choice.” 

“You look...amazing.” Bucky scooted over and patted the bench for her to sit with him. Amazing wasn’t the word for her, he decided, but he didn’t have the words to describe how she looked to him at that moment.

A shout startled them both and she turned towards it; a flash, then another, followed by a round of raucous laughter, then something was pushed into Laila’s hands.

It was a Polaroid picture, taken from a camera roughly Laila’s age. It showed Laila in the dress standing and facing the camera with Bucky sitting and staring at her with something akin to awe or reverence on his face. Bucky’s picture was fairly similar except he was looking at the camera with a confused expression. 

Laila sat beside him and, anxious to divert the subject from her appearance, reached for the baklava. “That looks tasty. What is it?” 

“It’s baklava, it’s MINE and I’m not sharing!” Bucky laughed and pulled the dessert away, out of Laila’s reach. 

The old man smiled and elbowed Bucky in the ribs. He said something in Romanian that caused Bucky to actually blush, which was adorable in itself, and the partygoers in the immediate vicinity to laugh. 

“What did he say?!” 

“Um...he said ‘you have to love a woman who knows what she wants’.” Caught off guard, Bucky lowered the baklava and Laila reached over and snatched it. She took a big bite, staring mischievously at Bucky. 

“And now it’s mine!” Her eyes widened at the flavor. “Ooh, this is good!” 

Bucky blinked and one of the Romanian women shouted something at them. The party burst into an ecstatic uproar.

“Now what?” 

Bucky actually stammered. “Uh...she—she said if I want another piece…” 

“And you know you do—“ Laila wagged the baklava at him before shoving it into her mouth.

“That I’d have to kiss you.” 

Laila sat back, mouth full of the remaining piece of baklava. Both were red in the face, which deepened the howls of laughter from the party goers. “A real kiss, not a peck on the lips or something?”

“Yeah—I—only if you’re okay with it…” Bucky scrubbed the back of his head with a hand. “It’s really good baklava; apparently the bride’s mother made it from scratch. I guess there’s this thing where they pretend to kidnap the bride and the groom has to pay a ransom so I guess we should be lucky they aren’t doing that…”

Laila blushed further. “Um...okay, depends on how much you want that baklava.” 

_It’s not the baklava I want…_ Bucky put a warm hand over Laila’s hand. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to—“

“And what if I do?” Laila challenged, the liquor kicking in and making her bolder. 

And with that, Bucky leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. 

It was not the sensation Laila expected. She thought it would just be a mash up of lips; she did not expect a deep, soft kiss from him. She put her hands in his hair while he put his hand on her waist and leaned into her, deepening the kiss. 

It was...heaven. Bucky pulled her into a possessive hug, inhaling deeply through his nose. She smelled of sweat and dirt and whatever floral scent the Romanian women used on her. She tasted of honey from the baklava and liquor and—redemption? Hope? He didn’t know and didn’t care, he just lost himself in her for a few precious seconds.

This man who held her in his arms, his mouth exploring her own with zest and zeal, was something entirely different than what her packet had said. Killer? Assassin? Dangerous? James Buchanan Barnes was none of these things, at least not currently. He held her in a warm embrace and she did not care about anything else at the moment.

They broke for air, the whoops and hollers of the wedding party finally cutting through their fugue. Bucky was presented with a large helping of baklava and both were given glasses of the liquor Laila had drank earlier. 

Both were blushing fiercely and didn’t look at each other. 

———

“So what are we going to do now?” Bucky asked softly in the truck. The party had begun to wind down at sunset and all the party goers except the old men had gone home. Laila had changed back into her clothes, then they walked to the truck, Bucky enduring ribald comments he’d rather not translate. 

Laila still felt buzzed. “I’m still feeling a little wired. Night’s still young, you want to hit up a club?” 

“That’s not what I was talking about.” Bucky turned his face to Laila, an unreadable expression on it. 

“I’m not having this conversation unless I’m sober,” Laila said. “It won’t work out for either of us.” 

“I think that’s a fair assessment.” 

They pulled into the hotel parking lot around three in the morning. Laila didn’t want to get out of the truck and tried to think of an excuse not to. 

“Laila?” Bucky put a hand on hers and she turned to him. 

Before she could open her mouth to respond, Bucky leaned in and kissed her again. 

Laila nearly burst into flames. The kiss at the wedding had been chaste compared to this one. This ignited all the fires of desire, want and longing for him; she returned the kiss with equal passion. 

Without thinking, Bucky pulled himself to Laila, pressing her against the bench seat, hand on the back for balance. She placed her hands on his hips _—oh shit she's touching me too I’m going to die—_ and pressed herself to him. 

Testing his boundaries, Bucky rested his other hand on her own hip and she leaned into it. He moved his kisses from her mouth to her throat and nipped where her shoulder met her neck then ran his tongue up the column of her throat. He moved his hand and trailed metal fingers up her side and she gasped softly and arched her back to meet his hand with her breast. He shifted to free his other hand—

—and Laila felt him press his groin into her, she could feel the stiffness in his jeans against her thigh and _oh god she needs him, needs this—_

And his free hand began to slide down the front of her shorts and Laila woke from her dream. “No—no—stop—“ 

The hands were immediately removed from her body and Bucky sat back with concern and more than a little disappointment on his face. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” 

“No, I’m fine, it’s not that—“ 

_She’s not ready._ The thought stuck out in Bucky’s mind. 

_You could take it anyways._ The Soldier. _You can make her willing. You are strong enough to do that..._

_“I won’t do that to her. Piss off and if we do hook up, it’ll be on both terms, not just mine.”_

“Bucky, I’m sorry—I’m not—“ Laila sat up and smoothed her hair. 

“It’s—it’s okay, I didn’t mean— I’m sorry…” Mortified (and frustrated) beyond words, Bucky left the truck and walked around to open the door for Laila. 

Laila, for her part, wanted to disappear into the earth. She had wanted this but Bucky...Bucky was supposed to just be a job. A mission. 

It wasn’t so simple anymore. 

Silently, and without touching her, Bucky walked her to her room. She hesitated before she opened the door _—touch me, kiss me, take me—_ and glanced over at Bucky. “See you again tomorrow?” 

“Y-yeah, yeah.”

And before either could do anything they’d question the sanity of later, Laila walked into her room and closed the door. 

Back in his apartment, Bucky swore and punched the wall. 

_You appear to have made a jackass of yourself,_ the Soldier commented. 

_“At least I didn’t hurt her, like you wanted…”_

_We both want her, she wants you. Why did you not take her?_

_“It’s not that simple. You can’t just take what you want and expect everyone to go along with it.”_ Bucky shoved the Soldier’s voice aside. _“She’s got to agree as well and she said no.”_

He sat on his bed, little more than a mattress, with his head in his hands. “What would I have to offer her anyways?” He asked out loud. “A lifetime of running? The fear of you being activated?” 

_You are a coward, James._

“I’m being realistic. Now if you don’t have anything constructive to add, go away.” Bucky stripped off his shirt, shoes and jeans and flopped down onto the mattress.

Despite all the thoughts running through his head, he was almost instantly asleep. 

_Soft hands run up and down his body, leaving no niche, nook or cranny unexplored. Gentle kisses pepper his face and neck and he groaned. A familiar floral scent wafts past his nostrils as dark auburn shades his face. He reaches for her, but she evades his grasp with a giggle and slithers down his body, planting kisses along the way._

_His back involuntarily arches as she eases his erection out of his boxers and slowly takes him into her mouth. Her blue grey eyes lock with his own as he reaches for her again. She allows him to run his fingers through her hair as she bobs up and down on his cock._

_Satisfied that he’s turned on enough for her, she straddles him and sinks down, impaling herself on him and oh god the sound she makes as she does and he doesn’t want this to end and it feels like heaven and—_

Bucky sat up in a cold sweat. His hardened manhood strained against his boxers and try as he might, it wouldn’t go away. He lay back, breathing heavily. _Fuck—!_

He grabbed the waist of his boxers and slid them down enough to allow his painful erection to pop out, then licked his flesh palm and fisted it. Imagining it was her, he moved his hand slowly at first—

_—she takes him into her mouth—_

—then faster as he imagined her taking him into her wet warmth, gasping his name and riding him into the night. 

With a grunt and a gasp of her name, Bucky climaxed, thick strands falling on his stomach and chest. 

———

Across town, Laila had not even been to sleep and she tossed and turned, imagining gentle kisses down her chest and stomach. She shoved her hand down her underwear to stroke and rub her clitoris. 

_—he’s kissing her mouth, her neck, her breasts, then her most intimate of places—_

_His body is pressing her down onto the bed—_

_He’s removing her clothes—_

_He’s pressing into her, stretching her, filling her—_

_Oh god oh shit oh fuck—_

She inserted two fingers into her canal, imagining it was him and after a few moments, she came with his name on her lips. 

They both lay in their respective beds, panting, unknowing of what the other was doing.


	10. Invincible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Here we go again_   
>  _I will not give in_   
>  _I’ve got a reason_   
>  _To fight_
> 
> Skillet, Invincible

For the next week, they avoided each other. Bucky didn’t come to Laila’s room for meetings and Laila didn’t go to the cafe, preferring a different one or just to stay in her room. 

One particularly frustrating morning, Nakia called her out of the blue as she was compiling reports. “Okay, what is going on? You have been avoiding me.” 

“I have not!” 

“You stopped going to the cafe to meet me.” 

Laila sighed. “It’s not you I’m avoiding.” 

Nakia showed up at her room an hour later with coffee and biscotti, which Laila accepted hungrily. “Is it a boy? A cute boy?” 

“Nakia, don’t you start…” 

Nakia sat on the bed. “Look, I know what it is like to have work interfere. I lost the love of my life that way.” 

Laila looked up from her computer. “What happened?” 

“Well, I had to make a choice between protecting the king and protecting my love and I chose my king. My love was not appreciative of it.” Nakia contemplated her coffee. “I still regret it to this day.” 

Laila stopped typing. _Would I regret choosing my job over him?_

A tiny voice inside her responded _yes you will._

Nakia regarded Laila with a knowing smile. “You know what to do, then.” 

Laila snapped her laptop shut and ran out of the room while shoving it into its bag, leaving Nakia in the room. 

———

Hoping against hope, Laila arrived at the cafe where she first met Bucky. Realizing far too late that she had literally no way to contact him, she silently cursed the man for not having any type of communications device. 

Relationships had never exactly been her strong point; she excelled at jumping to conclusions, outshooting anyone on the range and just generally hating herself. She had no advice other than her grandmother’s: “Be thin, wear makeup, don’t be easy and DON’T wear dresses above the knee!”

Laila couldn’t be that. She was a tomboy. She loved shooting guns, getting dirty, fixing cars (nevermind she wasn’t exactly good at that), wrestling, everything Nana said she shouldn’t, mostly because Nana said she shouldn’t. “Men want pretty and proper girls, not dirty tomboys!” 

Pop pop had great advice: “just keep doing what you’re doing and the right man (or woman) won’t care what you look like.” PP, as Laila called him, was a man ahead of the times. Behind Nana’s back, and sometimes in front of it, he’d taught Laila how to shoot, how to change the oil on his pristine 98 Ford F-150, how to wrestle a man twice her size...the latter Nana eventually relented to Laila being taught that to “preserve her modesty”. 

She adored her grandparents; they never tried to replace her parents and both were eager and quick with support, love and understanding. Laila’s father had been their child and their grief made both overprotective. 

Hence, Laila hadn’t been allowed to date and had literally no idea what to expect or how to expect it until her twenties. 

Laila opened her laptop and after a few moments of struggling with the WiFi, she opened her email to one from Fury. 

_Time’s running out. Is Jimmy coming home?_

_I don’t think so. I’ll try one last time then I’ll come home._

_Okay. Be careful, someone is up to something out there._

Laila didn’t respond.

She sat in the cafe for hours. 

Bucky didn’t so much as pass by. 

———

“Yes, I am looking for James Barnes?” A soft, accented alto voice accompanied the knock. 

“I don’t want anything, thanks.” It was near dusk and the neighborhood wasn’t so good and Bucky really didn’t feel like punching anything right that moment.

“Do you know a Laila Evans?”

Bucky stiffened, metal fist clenching up. “What happened to her?” He looked through the peephole to find a familiar dark skinned woman—the one Laila had been hanging out with. 

“She is fine. I am only a messenger. I just wanted you to know she is at the cafe.”

Bucky saw her walk away, hands in her pockets. He counted to ten and disappeared down the opposite hallway.

———

It was getting dark and the cafe was closing soon. With a disappointed sigh and tears brewing in her eyes, Laila packed up her laptop and headed back to the hotel. 

As she walked, she heard footsteps. Regretting not bringing her sidearm, she hurried back to the hotel. 

Entering her room and slamming and locking the door, Laila grabbed her sidearm in its alcove by the door and aimed it—

—and let out a little scream to find Bucky sitting on her bed. “Is a door a novel concept for you or something?!”

“Do you want me to go?” _Please say no, please..._

Laila grabbed her chest and leaned onto the wall. “No, I’d prefer if you didn’t, actually. I...I think someone followed me back here.”

“That’s why I used the window.” 

Recovered enough to put the Beretta on the table and pull a bottled water out of the mini fridge, Laila offered one to Bucky. “It’s been weird. I feel like your paranoia has rubbed off on me.” 

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he took a sip. “You think someone is following you?” 

“Yeah. Since we—“ _—made out in the truck—_ “—got back from that wedding.” Laila grabbed her own and drank it. “I feel like someone’s been following me.” 

_Shit._ “Did you happen to notice anything odd about the biker gang?” 

“Besides the fact that we kicked their asses?” Laila sat on a chair. “Most bikers I’ve heard of would have fought better.”

“Well, that too but anything noticeable?” 

Laila thought for a few moments. “One of the younger guys had a tattoo on his neck.” 

Bucky froze, bottle halfway to his mouth. “What kind of tattoo.” A statement, not a question and Laila got the feeling she should have brought this up earlier. 

“Kind of like an octopus but with a skull for a head—Bucky, what the entire fuck?! This isn’t my room!” 

Bucky had squeezed the water bottle to the point where it just popped and water went everywhere. He ignored it as he stood up and Laila frantically threw a towel over it. “Shit, they’ve found me—“ 

“Who??” 

“Hydra.” Bucky grabbed Laila’s laptop. “I thought they went down after SHIELD did but apparently not.” He opened up Laila’s browser and after a few keystrokes, brought up the CIA’s terror database and showed it to Laila. “Al-qaeda, taliban, Hamas, the IRA, Hydra has had some kind of influence over them all on the downlow. They’ve been funding these organizations.”

“So what does Hydra have to do with you?”

“They pulled me from the ravine and made me what I am now physically. After World War Two, Hydra became Russian instead of German-based. All my code words are in Russian—“

Laila interrupted. “Wait—code words—? Okay, just—just start at the beginning.”

Bucky sighed with frustration. There was a lot of information to relay and not enough time to relay it in. “Okay so in ‘44, half of my company was captured, myself included. Hydra was under German control then and they...experimented on us. I was the only one to survive the super serum so they kept me around and Cap—Rogers—rescued us. We formed the Howling Commandos and we went after Armin Zola. I fell off the train and Hydra picked me up again. I lost my arm and they replaced it with this—“ Bucky lifted his left arm. “I was kept on ice until they needed me, then they’d strap me down and speak the code words and I was theirs to command.” 

“Okay…” Laila gave Bucky the side eye. It was a psychologist’s treasure trove of information and Laila fought hard to keep herself from thinking he was an experiment.

“So how does it work?”

“You know I have two personalities: one is me, right here, and the other is the Soldier. When the code words are said in sequence and in Russian, I become the assassin, the killer, the Winter Soldier.”

Laila’s eyes narrowed. “The attempt on Fury…?”

“The Winter Soldier.” 

“Attempting to strangle me?” 

“Also him.” 

“But the code words weren’t spoken…”

Bucky sighed and put his head in his hands. “If he senses a life threatening danger—“

“Like the bikers firing on us?”

“Yeah—he surfaces.” 

“None of this was in my files, beyond you tried to kill Fury. Why isn’t it more detailed?” Laila was trying to sort through all this in her head; it was a lot to take in and she had so many questions. 

“You’d have to ask the Russians; they’re very secretive about their intel.” Bucky shrugged. “I figure we have maybe three to four days, tops, to get out of town.” 

Laila put a gentle hand on Bucky’s arm. “Come with me, then. Back to the States. You can start over again—“ _You’d at least be safe from Hydra._

“I can’t…I’m a wanted man there for Fury. The second I step foot on American soil, I’m a dead man.” 

Laila stood in front of Bucky and put her hand on his cheek. He leaned into it momentarily— _this feels good, the Soldier concedes. She is a friend_ — then put his hands on her arms. “I...I care about you and I don’t want to see you get hurt. Please, just…at least tell me where you’re going and what your plans are. I don’t know Nakia’s background but please, neither of you two go anywhere without me. Not even together.” 

“Bucky…” Laila nearly lost all her senses after the first sentence and gained them back on the restrictions. “I’m not going to be confined to my room and Nakia is a diplomat from Africa. You have no authority over her.” 

“I know, I know, I’m just…” 

“Chivalrously concerned?” Laila raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s more than that, Laila,” Bucky nearly whispered. “If Hydra even suspected anything between us, they’d kill you.” 

“What about you?” Laila asked softly. 

“I’m too valuable an asset,” Bucky responded bitterly. “The Handler would activate the Soldier and force me to watch whatever they did to you. The Soldier cannot fight the Handler and the Handler is the only one who knows the code words. I know like four, then I black out for a little and the Soldier takes over and I’m just a spectator until the mission ends. I have full consciousness but no control over my body.”

Laila paled. “So all the assignments you’ve had…” 

“I remember every single goddamn one.” Bucky couldn’t meet Laila’s eyes. 

_The horrors this man had been forced to commit, knowing that he can’t stop them. Oh my god, James, you poor soul..._

Both were silent for a few moments. Then Laila spoke. “Wouldn’t your Handler be dead now?” 

“Karpov? That crotchety old goat is probably still chasing skirt and drinking like a fish. They’d train a new Handler but Karpov has to select a protege.” Bucky spoke of Karpov as one would a hated employer. “One other thing. I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything, Bucky.” 

Bucky’s hands on her shoulders squeezed harder. “If I become...him, I can’t stop. I won’t be able to stop until the mission is complete. Karpov, if he finds me, could order me to...to…ra—torture you then kill you myself. If it comes to that…” 

Laila followed Bucky’s eyes to the handgun on the table. 

“Please don’t ask that of me…” Laila whispered hoarsely. 

“PROMISE ME, dammit! You can’t hesitate, you can’t let whatever feelings you have for me get in the way, you HAVE to pull that trigger or shove that knife in or push me off a damn building—I don’t CARE but I don’t want to hurt you, please promise me.” Bucky’s voice broke and Laila’s heart just… disintegrated. 

“Bucky…” Tears welled in Laila’s eyes. “I...I don’t know if I can…” 

“PROMISE ME!” Bucky nearly yelled in her face. 

The tears flowed freely. “I...I promise. Now promise me something, Bucky.” 

“Yeah, anything.” 

“Fight it.” Laila’s eyes held a strength, a steely resolve Bucky had never seen before. “Fight it with every ounce of your emotions, your head, everything you’ve got.”

“Even if it kills me,” Bucky affirmed, then lowered his mouth to hers.

Neither caught the man outside the door making a hasty exit and speaking into a cell phone.


	11. How Did You Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _No one gets out alive, every day is do or die_   
>  _The one thing you leave behind_   
>  _Is how did you love, how did you love?_
> 
> Shinedown, How Did You Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just sex. If you’re offended, pls review the rating.

The kiss deepened into a passionate, sensual kiss and Laila decided right then and there that nothing else mattered. James Barnes wasn’t just a job, a mission; he was something entirely different. 

He wasn’t a hard assed killer, she would swear on any number of holy texts; he was sweet and caring. His gentle hands were not meant for assassinations and murder and those hands explored every nook and cranny of her they could find. They cupped her breasts as if they were made of fine china and he guided her back until her legs hid the bed. They fell, Bucky on top, his flesh hand coming behind Laila’s head, as if contact with the bed would break it. 

“Laila, baby, please—“ The whisper of his voice nearly broke her heart. “I—fuck—I need you—“

 _To hell with it._ Laila nodded. “I’m ready.” 

He crushed his mouth to hers, moving his hands to explore her body. They caressed every inch through clothes before they found the hem of her shirt; he moved so she could sit up and removed it gently, then applied his lips to the column of her throat. She let out a little gasp and Bucky took that as a sign to keep going. 

She reached for his shirt and slid it up while Bucky pulled it off, kissing a trail from his neck down. She made sure to plant one where the bullet from the biker fight skipped off his left shoulder; the wound was gone with not even a scar and Laila was reminded of his past with the super serum. “God, you’re a beautiful man.” 

Bucky groaned and Laila pulled him to her. “I haven’t done this in years, I’m warning you now—oh!” Laila had undone the button on his jeans and was kissing a path along the coarse hair that led to his groin. She stopped just above where the line expanded into a thatch of thick curls and palmed his erection through his jeans. His knees buckled from the sensation and he gasped, falling back into the chair. “Fuck—oh my god—“ 

“You okay?” Laila had disengaged as soon as she felt him pulling away. 

“Yeah, yeah… it’s been a while...” 

“Yeah…” 

“1943. That’s the last time I did this. 194-fucking-3.” 

Laila fought back a laugh and a snarky joke that would have ruined the moment. “So you may go off early. It’s no big deal, it’s not like we have anywhere to be… Do you want me to be gentle or something?” She teased. 

“What I want to do to you right now is nowhere near gentle,” Bucky’s voice deepened to a predatory growl and Laila let out a lustful hiss. 

“Prove it, Bar—whoa!” Bucky stood up, pulling Laila with him and scooped her up into his arms. He carried her to the bed and lay her down on it, nipping hard at her neck and shoulders. He positioned himself between her legs and fondled her breasts. 

Then he began grinding into her and Laila nearly came undone. Bucky smirked and moved his hands to her shorts and undid the button. “I want you to get off first.” Slowly he slid his hand down to her clit and rubbed lazy circles over it; Laila wrapped her hands in his hair as he pressed his mouth to her throat. 

As she moaned his name softly, he inserted a finger into her warm, wet heat; when she gasped and bucked into him, he stroked that spot again and again until Laila began panting, then—

—stopped. Laila _keened_ his given name as he pulled away from her and slithered down her body, pulling off her underwear and peppering random spots with kisses as he went. He rose back to face her, kissing her deeply as he ground his groin against her. 

“I want to taste you—“ he whispered against her mouth, pulling out his fingers. 

“Yes—god, yes—“ 

Bucky left her panting on the bed as he placed his head between her legs. Laila moaned his name as he applied his lips to her folds, tonguing her entrance lightly. “Oh baby, you’re so good—“ 

In response, Laila lifted her hips so she could see him work and he cupped his hands under her ass. “—for someone who—oh!—hasn’t been laid since the mid 40s—oh yes—you’re awfully good at this—“ 

Bucky moved his lips from her folds to her clit and hummed on it, then looped his left hand around her leg to her abdomen and pushed down gently. Laila managed to grab a pillow and propped herself up on it. He locked eyes with her and slowly slid a finger into her, searching for that one special spot. 

He knew he found it when Laila let out a shuddering gasp, then moaned his name. He stroked that spot lightly as she writhed beneath his touch and as they locked eyes again, he murmured “cum for me, Laila—“ 

“I’m so close—“ Laila closed her eyes and Bucky nipped her clit lightly.

“Come on, baby—say my name—“ He added a second finger and crooked them, rubbing against the spongy spot in her canal. 

“James—“ Her heart rate sped up, Laila began panting out Bucky’s given name over and over.

“Look at me—cum for me, Laila—“ Laila’s eyes opened and as she fixed her eyes on his for the third time, she finally came undone under his tongue and fingers. 

Bucky licked her through it and as she came down from the crest, she rested a hand on his metal arm. He sat up and wiped her arousal from his face and grinned wickedly. “I’m out of practice—“ 

Laila threw the pillow she had propped herself on at him; he caught it. “Bull. Shit.” 

“If I wasn’t, you wouldn’t have cum so quickly. I’d have drawn it out for you.” Bucky kissed her still sensitive clit, causing Laila to gasp, then lay on the bed besides her and put a hand on her stomach. She rolled so she was facing him and slid her hands over his broad chest, tracing the outlines of his hard muscles. Her hand drifted down the front of his jeans and brushed against the head of his erection; he gasped and Laila grinned. 

She shimmied down so she was facing his groin and guided him onto his back. She pulled down his jeans enough to grant her access to his boxers and straining prominent erection within. “Holy shit—“

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Problem?” 

Laila flicked her gaze to his face. “You’ve been holding out on me, James.” 

Bucky grinned like the cat that caught the canary and flipped Laila onto her back again; he gently guided up to the head of the bed then pinned her down with his body, then kissed her deeply. 

“Oh I am NOT done with you yet,” Bucky whispered, removing his jeans and boxers. He ran a hand against Laila’s entrance— “shit, you’re still wet—“ 

“What about—“ 

“Don’t worry about me, doll; let me take care of you,” he whispered against her ear. He lined himself up with her and pushed into her slowly. Laila gasped, then moaned against Bucky’s shoulder as he gently slid into her to the hilt. He shuddered as her heat enveloped him— _don’t go off early, oh my god, don’t_ —and had to still himself, groaning against her shoulder. Fully sheathed and filling her but not to the point of pain, he sat up and pulled Laila’s hips to his own.

“Bucky—are you—?” 

“I’m good—just...give me a sec…” Bucky adjusted his legs and lifted her hips to a better angle, then grabbed the headboard as Laila ran her hands up and down his torso. “Oh my god—you feel so good—“ Still grabbing the headboard, Bucky leaned over her, eyes blown with lust and rolled his hips into her. Laila’s hands ran up his sides and found purchase on his waist; she dug her nails in and Bucky hissed and drove in deeper. “This isn’t going to last long if you keep doing that—“ 

He began to move against her, using his thumb to rub circles over her clit; Laila felt heat begin to gather in her core again. “Oh fuck—don’t stop—“ 

Then Bucky began thrusting slowly into her and Laila’s soul nearly left her body; she ground her hips into his as best she could from that angle. He gasped and his breathing hitched and he rubbed her clit faster. “Come on, baby, one more— look at me, Laila—“ 

The deep tone in his voice made her forget everything as she fixed her eyes on him again. Digging her nails into his hips, Laila began gasping his name; he grunted out hers then slammed his hips into her over and over. 

And Laila felt herself ascending that cliff again— “James—don’t stop—“ 

Bucky doubled over her with a cry the pumped into her and Laila felt a warm heat flood into her core; he whispered her name with reverence and awe, then ground his thumb into her clit, driving her off the cliff into the sea of pleasure below. He lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply as his hips stuttered to a halt. 

“...god, you’re beautiful…” he whispered as he withdrew. Laila gave a soft gasp for the loss of him. 

“You are, too…” Laila pulled his head to her chest and Bucky heard her heart pounding. 

They lay there in that position for several hours; Laila fell asleep first. Bucky gently picked himself up off of her then guided her under the blankets, then joined her in sleep.


	12. Next To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There's something about the way that you always see the pretty view_   
>  _Overlook the blooded mess, always lookin' effortless_   
>  _And still you, still you want me_
> 
> Imagine Dragons, Next to Me
> 
> Another chapter of sex.

The next morning, Bucky beat Laila to the shower and locked the door, much to her annoyance and dismay. She heard a clunk as what she presumed was his metal arm hitting the floor and sat down in front of the mirror, towel wrapped around her midsection. Her phone beeped. 

It was Nakia; she had sent a text: “is everything okay?”

Laila snickered and replied: “yes, I got hung up with work.” 

Nakia sent back a wink smiley as her reply. 

“What are you giggling at?” Bucky was out of the shower and strapping his arm on, towel wrapped around his waist. 

“A text from a friend.” 

“That chick from Wakanda? She’s pretty cool.” Bucky sat on the bed next to Laila and double checked the servos on his arm. “This thing is such a pain in the ass to take off.” 

“I’ll bet it is!” Laila rushed into the shower; Bucky reached out and grabbed her behind as she walked by. 

_What are you doing, Laila?_ As she washed her hair, Laila sank deep into her thoughts. 

She had allowed this man into the deepest recesses of her heart and he had helped her realize who she was. She thought it was supposed to be the other way around; she was the psychologist and he was the patient. 

It was incredibly unprofessional of her to fall to this level and it breached the doctor/patient trust. 

Laila turned off the water and towelled herself dry. She wrapped the towel around her chest and stepped out of the bathroom to find Bucky in about the same spot he was in but standing instead of sitting. 

He was staring at the mirror across from the bed and running his fingers over his body, tracing lines over the hard planes of his stomach. 

“Why?” His whispered question was barely audible. 

“Why what?” 

“How did a gal like you—“ Bucky looked over at Laila, tears in his eyes. “—end up with a monster like me?” 

“Luck, I suppose.” The “monster” label bothered Laila. 

“Good luck?” 

In response, Laila walked over to Bucky and placed herself between him and the mirror. “James Buchanan Barnes, you and I have known each other for a only a few weeks and already I feel like I’ve known you a lifetime.” She sank to her knees in front of him. “You’ve been through some significant traumas but you’ve still managed to be YOU.” 

Bucky hung his head and Laila grabbed his hands. “You’re a wonderful person: I’ve seen you fight, I’ve heard you sing, I’ve seen YOU. You’re smart, you’re passionate, you’re a good man, Bucky. Any girl would consider herself blessed just to be your friend, let alone…” 

She stood and took Bucky’s face in her hands and turned it towards hers. “You are you and that’s all anyone can ask you to be. You have this...this joie de vivre I’ve never seen before and I adore it.” 

Smoothing a lock of still damp brown hair from his face, Laila bent down and kissed him softly. “But this isn’t about me and how I feel.”

Bucky wrapped his arms around Laila and buried his face into her neck. His voice was muffled but Laila swore he said something about too many demons. 

“We all have demons, Bucky. If you don’t have demons, you don’t have experience.” Laila kissed the top of his head. “I am suspicious of anyone who says they don’t have some type of skeleton in their closet.” 

She turned his face towards hers and pressed her forehead against his. “If anyone is deserving of love and acceptance, it’s you.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek then his mouth; he wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss. 

Laila gently pushed Bucky back down so he was laying on the bed then undid the towel around his waist. She took his limp manhood in her hand and he groaned, then gasped as she took the tip into her mouth. Before it could harden completely, Laila took the whole organ into her mouth and Bucky cried out, throwing his head back. As he hardened, Laila drew her mouth slowly back up the shaft, leaving just the tip in her mouth. 

“Shit—“ Bucky looked down at her then wrapped his flesh hand in Laila’s hair and grabbed a pillow with the other one, stuffing it behind his head. He tried to thrust his hips into Laila but she held him down gently. “Fuck—Laila—“ She looked up with his erection in her mouth and locked eyes with him and Bucky swore it took him everything not to cum right there. “Oh, baby, you look so beautiful like that—“ 

Letting her hands off his hips, she allowed him to thrust up into her mouth for several, hollowing her cheeks. 

“Laila—I’m—“ With a grunt and a gasp and a powerful thrust, Bucky climaxed in her mouth; Laila accepted the emission and swallowed it. When she was done swallowing, Bucky hooked his hands behind Laila’s upper arms and pulled her up to kiss her. 

She broke the kiss and worked her way down his face and neck to his muscular chest, pulling a pointed nipple into her mouth as Bucky gasped from the sensation. She kissed the junction between his body and his arm then slowly licked a trail down his torso. With her thigh against his groin, she felt him harden again. She straddled his waist and when Bucky tried to sit up, Laila pushed him back down gently. “No, this one’s for you.” 

“But—“ 

“Oh I’ll get mine, don’t worry about that—“ Laila scooted back until her butt came in contact with Bucky’s half hard penis. She ran her hands up and down her body and undulated her hips, grinding lightly onto his groin just above his pubic bone. He groaned and moved his hands to grip Laila’s waist but she moved them to her thighs. “Not yet.” 

He gripped her thighs and watched her put on a private show. She moved her hands slowly over her breasts, her torso, her groin… “What do you want, James?” 

“Touch yourself.” 

Laila smiled. “I’m already doing that, baby…” 

“Let me touch you, then,” he whispered. “Show me where—show me how to make you feel good.” 

Laila placed her hand on Bucky’s metal hand and held it between her hands, much as a doctor holds her stethoscope in her hands to warm it up. She placed the warmed hand gently on her breast and worked her hand to show him how to massage her breast. When he took the hint, she took his flesh hand and placed it on her other breast. The contrast between temperatures and textures made her gasp. 

He gripped her breasts gently as she balanced herself with one hand on his hard abdomen, then trailed the other hand down her torso. 

“Touch your clit, Laila—“ Bucky moved his metal hand to her hip while still massaging her breast. Laila obliged, licking the tips of her fingers then moving them between her legs and lightly massaging her nub. “—yes, baby, god yes—“ 

As he watched, he began to thrust his hips up and his erection rubbed against her behind. “—please—I want to taste you—“ 

“Okay.” Laila slid forward onto Bucky’s chest and allowed him access. Bucky hooked his hands around her thighs and spread her legs open wider, then put his mouth to Laila’s clit. She gasped and doubled over. “Oh shit, Bucky—“ 

Bucky dove right in, switching his tongue between toying her nub and delving into her folds. “Baby, you taste so good—“ 

“I’m gonna—I don’t want to—not yet—“ she whimpered, running a hand through his hair.

“I want you to—“ Bucky murmured into her folds. “Come on, baby, cum for me—“ He poked his tongue into her, still sucking on her clit. “That’s it, baby, cum for me—“ 

And Laila did, a soft, rolling wave; she arched her back and tightened her grip on his hair and gasped out his given name.

She collapsed forward over him then slid down so she was face to face with him. He kissed her gently and she tasted the tang of herself on his tongue. Then she sat up and posed herself over his erection, then guided him into her entrance and slowly sank down onto him until he was fully encased in her. “Jesus, Bucky—you feel so good.”

Bucky made a noise that was between a groan and a hiss and thrust up into her, moving his hands to hold her hips. Laila placed her hand over his heart to steady herself and began to work her hand over her nub. 

“Laila—fuck, I’m so close—“ 

“That’s it, baby, let go…” Laila whispered, barely heard by him. She laced her fingers through his left hand and allowed him to grip her hip with his other hand. 

Bucky threw his head back and cried out her name and Laila felt liquid heat pour from him into her. He pumped up into her a few more times and she gently climaxed again with a soft gasp of Bucky’s given name. 

“You’re something else, you know that?” Bucky smiled dreamily, after the high had worn off. “I...I think I’m in love with you.” 

Laila curled up against his side, fingers tracing lazy infinity patterns on his chest. She froze at Bucky’s admission. “Bucky...I—“ She lifted herself on her forearms and stared down at him. “I feel the same way…I have for a while now.” 

“You’re such...I can't describe it, but you bring out the best in me.” Bucky ran his fingers through her hair. “I haven’t felt like this in a long time. Since the train, I haven’t been…’allowed’ to…” He trailed off. 

Laila leaned over him. “They wouldn’t let you even get laid.” 

“No. They thought it would be a distraction and I can kind of see why.” Bucky chuckled lightly. “The only things I want to do now are eat, sleep and you.” 

“I’m okay with that, honestly! Can you order a pizza? I still haven’t learned those phrases.”


	13. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I'm friends with the monster that's under my bed_   
>  _Get along with the voices inside of my head_   
>  _You're trying to save me, stop holding your breath_   
>  _And you think I'm crazy, yeah, you think I'm crazy_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Monster, Eminem/Rihanna

They fell asleep soon after Bucky placed the order. It was unintentional; the physical activity had caught up to them. Bucky lay on his back and Laila lay her head on his chest facing his and pulled the blankets over them. 

She had fallen asleep almost as soon as she closed her eyes.

———

_The same dream, the same battlefield._

_Only Laila was herself and she was facing Bucky. Bucky held the recently fired M16 at his side and stared at her forlornly; just beyond his back was Steve Rogers’ battered body with a red spot spreading across his chest._

_“I...I don’t have a choice, Laila. I can’t stop it…”_

_Laila held the Beretta in her hand and aimed at his chest._

_But she couldn’t pull the trigger this time._

_As she looked up at Bucky’s face, it changed drastically: it was angry and he charged her, wrapping his hands around her throat._

——— 

Laila woke up, sitting up with a gasp and a cry. Bucky bolted up, head on a swivel, looking for a threat. Seeing none, he turned Laila’s face to his own. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…bad dream…” 

Bucky nodded solemnly. “They happen a lot for me, especially after a mission.” 

The door knocked and a voice called out in Romanian. Bucky pulled on a pair of shorts and answered the door: “Pizza’s here!” He grabbed some euros out of his wallet and paid, despite Laila’s objections that she should.

“So what now?” Bucky asked around a mouthful of pepperoni, once they had been settled. 

“I...don’t know.” Laila wiped her face with a napkin. “Are you coming back to the states with me?” 

Bucky froze. “You know what will happen if I do.” 

“No, I don’t know that for sure,” Laila said evenly, turning her face to his. “I do know that the guy you attempted to kill has asked me to help you in whatever weird way he wants. I do know that you will have to take some responsibility for your actions—“

“Which isn’t going to be good—“ 

“—and I do know I’m going to stand with you through it.” Laila gripped Bucky’s hand. “I’ve seen… episodes like yours. I used to talk with Banner—I didn’t treat him—and it’s similar to his case.” 

Bucky chuckled. “I still don’t know who that is.” 

Five minutes and one encouraging backstory later: “...except his case is through radiation and yours is through subliminal messaging. I think yours can be cured...healed—whatever you want to call it—“

 _You could be free._ The Soldier seemed to rage against that idea. 

_I do not want to be destroyed._

_“Don’t—no—stay down—“_

Laila had pulled on a shirt and shorts then taken out a pad and paper. “...so let’s analyze the dreams—Bucky? Bucky, are you okay—?!” 

Bucky was nowhere to be found. The shell that wore Bucky’s face turned towards her and Laila could see the intent in his eyes. She dove for her gun on the table—

—the Soldier grabbed for her—

—she missed the gun and fell on the floor—

—he came down on top of her—

“Fuck—!!” Laila rolled out from under him and stuffed herself under the table and kicked at the Soldier’s face while fumbling for her Beretta. She grabbed ahold of it as the Soldier dragged her out from under the table and slammed her painfully into the chair—

—and Laila saw his eyes. They were the soulless, piercing eyes of the Soldier. They were filled with anger and...terror? The Soldier’s hand went to his thigh, but nothing was there and Laila realized he was reaching for his knife. She used the distraction to smash him in the side of the head with the handgun—

The man fell with a grunt. Laila scrambled out from under the table and slammed herself on the wall out of his reach, training her Beretta on the Soldier’s back. 

Not that she could pull the trigger anymore...

“—ow.” Bucky rose to his knees just beyond the bed. His head hurt and he felt something dripping down the left side of his face. He put his hand to it and it came away bloody. 

But that was nothing compared to what he saw when he looked over at Laila. 

She had her back against the wall and she was pointing her handgun at him. Her eyes were blown wide with terror and her hands were shaking. 

“Laila—“ 

“I swear to god if you aren’t gone in the next three seconds, I will pull this trigger—“ 

“Whoa, take it easy—“ Bucky held his hands up to placate her. It didn’t work. 

“You attacked me, you son of a bitch! I’m trying to help you!” Laila’s voice wavered. “There wasn’t even any warning—you just—“ Tears started flowing from her eyes and Bucky’s heart just… shattered. 

“Laila, I’m—“ 

“Get out!” She cried hoarsely. 

“I’m...I’m just getting my clothes, okay…?” Bucky slowly bent and grabbed his pants, then grabbed his shirt. Both in hand, he eased past her to the door. 

His eyes found hers and Bucky reached for her. “Laila, please—it wasn’t—“ 

“GET OUT!!” She aimed at his head this time.

“Okay—Okay—I’m sorry—Okay—“ With a heavy heart and a desperate soul, he backed to the door and opened it. “Laila—please—I’m sorry—“ 

**“OUT!”** Laila’s voice broke. 

Bucky stepped into the hallway and closed the door. He stood there in his undershorts, with his clothes in hand, not even caring that people were peeking into the hallway. He contemplated bursting the door open but he realized that it would end in a bullet to somewhere vital. He leaned his forehead on the door and whispered “I’m sorry” over and over. He would have sworn he heard sobbing on the other side, as if Laila was sitting against the door and crying. 

Finally cognizant of the onlookers, Bucky dressed himself, realizing belated that his boots were in Laila’s room. He walked out barefoot and purchased a pair of flip flops from the convenience mart near the hotel, then walked back to his apartment.

Numbly, he ascended the stairs to his studio apartment, unlocked the door and flopped down onto his mattress. 

_She tried to destroy me._

_“You ever consider that I might be better off without you? You’ve ruined everything. I could have been something more than just a weapon—”_

_I will not apologize. You still need me._

_“For what? Destroying someone else’s life?”_

_I do not know yet, but you still need me._

The Soldier ended the conversation abruptly and Bucky was left alone with his memories of Laila. Despite his best efforts, he fell asleep.


	14. Damaged People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _We're damaged people_   
>  _Drawn together_   
>  _By subtleties that we are not aware of_   
>  _Disturbed souls_   
>  _Playing out forever_   
>  _These games that we once thought we would be scared of_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Depeche Mode, Damaged People

As soon as the door closed, Laila jolted to her senses. She strode to the door with the intention of calling Bucky back. She put the gun in its alcove by the door and put her hand on the door. 

But she couldn’t open it. 

The sheer terror she felt when Bucky suddenly snapped into Soldier mode couldn’t be denied. _Will it always be like that? Will it be that sudden?_

_Will I die next time?_

Shaking, Laila removed her hand. She put her back against the door and slid down it, sobbing. 

_“I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—I’m sorry—“_ She thought she could hear his voice through the door but she couldn’t bring herself to open it. This was the second time the Soldier had tried to hurt her and part of knowing what she could take was _knowing_ what she could take. The Soldier was dangerous and unpredictable and as much as she wanted to help Bucky, Laila didn’t want to end up on the wrong end of the Soldier’s wrath. 

The nightmare wasn’t helping. It had been so real, so visceral, and while she knew it had been a dream and tried to brush it off as such, Laila couldn’t help but be terrified of Bucky and his inner turmoil. 

She stood on shaky legs and walked over to her laptop. Numbly, she opened it and found an email from Fury waiting. 

_You’re running out of time. Is he coming home or not?_

Slowly, Laila pecked out a response: _no, he’s not._

Fury replied back almost immediately. _As long as you’re safe. Check in when you get back. _Attached was an itinerary for a flight leaving the next day in the morning.__

__Laila didn’t reply._ _

__———_ _

__Nakia sat in the cafe, enjoying the late afternoon breeze and the coffee. If anything, Starbucks was worth mentioning to King T’Chaka._ _

__She hated being not entirely honest with Laila, her first actual friend outside of Wakanda but it was necessary. Nakia was a spy. None of her actions were militaristic in nature, but Nakia had been sent with the idea of seeing if the world was ready for an African superpower. It was not: the world still believed Wakanda—and Africa in general—to be third world. Oh, what glee she would feel when Wakanda was outed to the world and these people discovered that Wakanda wasn’t as meager as it seems._ _

__Nakia sighed to herself, wondering what Laila would think if she actually saw the flying cars in Wakanda. She hadn’t really believed that there were from the look on her face, but that could also have been from the sheer terror that she was feeling in the aircraft._ _

Her phone beeped with a message from Laila: _I’m leaving tomorrow._ Nakia paid her bill and left. 

__———_ _

__“So what happened?” Nakia sat herself on the bed cross legged. She took in the scene: tousled bed, scattered papers, a half eaten large pizza on the table, paper plates with partially consumed slices littering the bed and floor, boots that were too big to be Laila’s under the bed and a general mess inhabited the room._ _

__Laila sat in a chair across from the bed and took a shot from the whiskey bottle she had purchased after Bucky had left and gave Nakia a rundown of the last two weeks. “... and we were eating and I was trying to talk about his dreams and all of a sudden, he attacked me.”_ _

__“So this man, this ‘job’, he turned out to be more than a job?”_ _

__Laila nodded, sniffling. “I didn’t even try to prevent it, it just happened.”_ _

__Nakia nodded solemnly and sipped her coffee. “Do you love him?”_ _

__“Yes.” The word was out of her mouth before she realized it._ _

__“Do you think there is a… a chance for the two of you?”_ _

__To that question, Laila didn’t have the answer. “How...how would it work? He’s...he’s basically two different people, both at odds with each other. I don’t want to live a life where I’m terrified to do or say anything for fear of how he’d react. Like, if I ask him to take out the trash, will he…” She trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence._ _

__Nakia put a hand on Laila’s shoulder. “Love will always find some kind of way, Laila. If he loves you, he will come back and you both will find a way.” Her phone beeped again and Nakia looked down at it. “Unfortunately, work calls.”_ _

__“You leaving too?” Laila took another swig of the whiskey. She stood—shakily, Nakia noticed, and set about cleaning the hotel room. Without a work, Nakia helped. The pizza went into the trash and Laila put the papers into her computer bag._ _

___Your friends in Nigeria request a visit,_ the text read. A mission from T’Challa, but Nakia couldn’t tell Laila. “Yes. I will be leaving tomorrow.” _ _

__“Keep in contact with me, yeah?”_ _

__Nakia nodded. “Hang on to that phone; you may need it.”_ _

__Laila smiled. “Have a great trip, hit me up when you get back. You should come out to New York City some time.”_ _

__“I’ll try to.” Nakia wrapped her arms around Laila in a friendly hug. “Take care now.” After hugging Laila again, Nakia left._ _

__As she passed the front door to the hotel to get to her car, Nakia noticed a group of suspicious men. She caught a glimpse of several of them: one, a potbellied biker type with a limp; another was young, barely old enough to put on his own and a third was elderly and crisply dressed. All three had the same tattoo on their necks._ _

__An octopus with a skull for a head._ _

__They headed into the hotel...and Nakia had a sneaking suspicion that those three weren’t the only ones she had to be worried about._ _

__And as she got into her car, she saw the shadows of more agents. She counted about twelve._ _

__There was no way she and Laila could handle all fifteen people and walk away._ _

__Heart rate speeding up, Nakia started the car and drove to the one person she knew could help._ _

__———_ _

__Bucky was jolted from his depression induced sleep by a pounding on the door. He edged up to it, preparing to punch the offender. Peering out the peephole, he saw a familiar face—but something was wrong. Inwardly panicking, he flung open the door, catching her fist as it was about to swing down._ _

__“Laila’s in trouble—“_ _

__Five minutes later found them in Nakia’s car as she careened down the street, ignoring every light._ _

__“I came to you for help, Sergeant Barnes. I cannot fight this one,” she said, confirming to Bucky that she did have that experience. “I am a diplomat here; anything I do is under the highest scrutiny.”_ _

__“Then promise something.”_ _

__Nakia slammed on the brakes just a block away from Laila’s hotel; traffic was at a standstill for an accident. “I’ll get her out, I promise.”_ _

__“And stay out of it—“ Bucky threw open the door and bolted down the street to Laila’s hotel room._ _


	15. Ashes of Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Stay with me_   
>  _Don’t let me go_   
>  _Til the ashes of Eden fall_
> 
>  
> 
> Ashes of Eden, Breaking Benjamin

As he approached the room, Bucky noticed panicked people filing away from it. 

Hydra was there, he knew it now.

And Laila was in grave danger. 

Facing them head on would result in death, so Bucky cut through a room and left out the window. Quiet as a cat, he snuck along the outside, stopping only to break the neck of a Hydra agent who was stationed outside the window. He caught the body as it fell, silently lowering it to the ground. Looking through the window, he saw Laila in the room alone, packing clothes into a suitcase. A packed bag and her purse lay close by and her Beretta was in a holster at the small of her back.

He tapped on the window; Laila jumped, drawing her firearm. Seeing it was him, she lowered it, but did not holster it. She slid the window open partially, just enough to put her arm through if necessary. “What do you want?” 

“You gotta listen to me, Laila—“ 

Laila’s mouth was a thin line. “I don’t have to listen to a damn thing you say, Barnes—“ She holstered her sidearm and pulled her shirt down to cover it from any passers-by.

“It’s Hydra, Laila—“ 

“Why should I believe you?” She hissed, then slid the window closed, slamming it. The curtains were pulled closed and despite Bucky slamming on the window, Laila refused to answer. 

Bucky was debating on breaking the window down when he heard a dull thud and Laila shriek. He reared back his fist to smash the window when a voice in Russian called out; he turned to find a half squad of Hydra agents aiming semi automatic rifles at him. 

Oddly, they didn’t fire. Instead, the squad leader motioned him into the room. 

Bucky heard the sound of the window sliding open and, keeping an eye on the half squad, he slid into the room. He heard Laila’s terrified breathing and realized they weren’t alone.

And he turned to see his worst nightmare. “Karpov.” 

Bucky’s Handler walked into the room, flanked by the bikers Bucky and Laila had fought several weeks ago. The potbellied one leered at Laila. 

“What is he doing here?” Laila whispered. 

“I cannot check up on my project?” Vasily Karpov chuckled. 

Bucky placed himself between Laila and the man. “Get the fuck out. Now. Or I’ll—“

“Or you’ll what, soldat?” Karpov smirked. “You’ll killed your commanding officer?” He waved his hand and the Hydra agents filed into the room. Laila instinctively drew and raised her Beretta over Bucky’s shoulder to aim at Karpov. “Such fire, child. If you pull that trigger, you won’t make it out of here alive—drop the weapon and kick it to me or I will give the order to open fire.” 

“Laila, do it—“ Bucky whispered urgently. Reluctantly, she did, kicking it towards Karpov.

“Now then, we can have civil conversation.” Karpov pulled out a familiar red notebook and waved it at Bucky, showing it off like a child shows off a prized toy. 

Bucky paled. “Laila—you’ve got to get out of here. Now—“ 

“Is that—?!” 

“Yes—and once the code is completed, nothing will—“ Bucky nudged her towards the window. “Go NOW—“ 

“Nobody is going anywhere!” Karpov thundered. Laila knew he was right: there were too many Hydra agents between her and any exit. She saw shadows outside the window and knew there were more.

Bucky grabbed her hand and backed both of them up to the wall. Laila put her hand on his shoulder reassuringly and he squeezed her hand in return, keeping himself between her and Karpov. 

Karpov roared: “ZHELANIYE!” 

Bucky stiffened.

“RZHAVYY!”

Laila pressed her back against the wall, judging the distance between her and the Beretta on the floor.

“SEMNADTSAT!”

Bucky sank to his knees, hands on his temples, groaning.

“RASSVET! PECH! DEVYAT!” 

Laila went into a crouch, foot against the wall, terrified this may not work— it has to—

“DOBRO SERDECHNY!” 

Bucky grunted and strained against the commands as Laila launched herself towards the Beretta—

“VOZVRASHCHENIYE NA RODINU!” 

She scooped up the Beretta and aimed it at Karpov—

“ODIN!” 

She fired as Karpov triumphantly shouted out: “GROZOVOY VAGON!” 

The round missed Karpov’s head by half an inch. The agents aimed their weapons at Laila and she heard several safeties being switched off. Karpov held up his hand. 

The room was silent for several seconds, the Laila heard a shifting of cloth, metal and leather. 

Then a calm voice said: “Gotovy soblyudat.” 

And Laila knew she was a dead woman, that Bucky was gone, replaced by The Winter Soldier. She wheeled on him, aiming the handgun at him, trying to find the strength and courage to fulfill her promise—

And she failed. She couldn’t shoot Bucky. It didn’t matter anymore, she just...couldn’t. 

Karpov placed his hands behind his back. “Soldat, eta zhenshchina yavlyayetsya ugrozoy.” _Soldier, this woman is a threat._ “Ona nadela oruzhiye na menya i dolzhna byt' rassmotrena.” _She has pulled a weapon on me and must be dealt with._

“Ustranit' yeye srazu.” 

_Eliminate her at once._

Laila had enough time to register what was happening, then a vice like hand wrapped around her throat and hauled her to her feet. It felt like being in a constrictor’s coils and as Laila breathed out, the hand gripped harder and she dropped the Beretta.

In English, Karpov said: “Look her in the eye as you do, soldier.” 

The Winter Soldier turned and slammed Laila against onto the table behind him. Dazed, Laila wondered how he hadn’t broken her neck or why, but the latter was answered when the hand squeezing her throat squeezed harder. The other hand joined the flesh one and he wedged a leg between hers and for one terrifying moment, Laila thought he meant to violate her. 

But nothing of that nature happened. Instead, he bent her head back, squeezing slightly harder.

Soulless eyes stared into hers from a dispassionate face. 

“B-Bucky—I know—you’re in there—agck!” Laila reached her right hand out and tried to put her palm on his face, tears streaming down her own. “—please—I love y—” The hand squeezed tighter and Laila missed contact. Her vision began going spotty, then black.

_He knows this voice._

_“Let her go!!” The host screams._

_I cannot disobey orders._

_“Let her GO!!” The host pleads._

_I cannot._

_“It’s Laila! She’s our friend, remember?! She’s our ally! She’s my…”_

_I am sorry, I cannot._

_“NO!!”_

_The host proceeds to attempt to unclench his grip on the threat’s windpipe. The soldier fights back against the host._

“The knife, Soldat.” Karpov’s impatient voice cut through the fugue. “End this now.” 

The Soldier released Laila’s throat with his right hand, still keeping a tight grip with the left, and unsheathed the knife on his right thigh.

He knows where to drive the blade home for a quick death but the Handler will not allow him the courtesy of sparing her the agony of it all. 

_“I won’t let you kill her—“_

_We will die if we do not. The handler will kill us._

_“I’ll take that chance—“_

_I cannot disobey…_

_The Soldier makes a decision—_

The Soldier drove the blade into Laila’s left side. She cried out and arched her back into him, tears streaming down her face. A trickle of blood appeared at the corner of her mouth. 

She lifted her hand—

_The threat—Laila?—is growing weaker. She puts a hand on the soldier’s face—_

_The memories and feelings come flooding back. Memories of being accepted, being cared for, being...loved? The hand falls and Laila coughs._

_And the Soldier relents._

The Soldier released Laila, then stood up between her as she slid off the table to the floor.

Karpov spluttered angrily. “You are disobeying, soldier! FINISH THE JOB OR I WILL!” 

The Soldier faced Karpov. “No.” 

Karpov went red in the face, then strode up to the Soldier and slapped him; the Soldier did not retaliate. “Fine! Since you’ve gone soft, I have to finish eliminating the reason you got soft! STAND ASIDE and do not interfere with your handler!” 

“...You won’t win, Karpov…” Laila gasped, holding her side and coughing up blood. He strode over to her—

_We must move._

_“No, we have to help her!”_

_I cannot disobey again._

_“HELP HER!!”_

_We cannot help._

_“Then kill the soldiers! Kill Karpov! ANYTHING!”_

_I cannot disobey the Handler again._

Karpov picked up the barely conscious Laila by her hair and dragged her to her feet. He jerked her head so she was looking him in the face. “I already have,” he whispered victoriously into her ear.

_“He will kill her!”_

_Better she die so we may live._

Karpov shoved Laila onto the table. “Pick her up and hold her.” The agents closest did so and once she was restrained to Karpov’s liking, he backhanded Laila then turned to the Soldier. “You have your fun with your toy, Soldat, but now it’s my turn.” He turned back to Laila, who was bleeding from the nose and side, and grabbed a handful of her dark auburn hair. 

“Since you were playing without permission, you will be punished. Do you know what happens when a child has something he shouldn’t have?”

The Soldier stood motionless. 

“It is taken away.” Karpov motioned and the Hydra agents forced Laila to her feet. He walked behind her, drew his pistol and jammed it into Laila’s right side, eyes still on the Soldier. “Her death will allow you to understand why you cannot have these types of things, eh, Soldat?” 

Laila whimpered breathlessly as her injured lung began to collapse; Karpov smiled then then gripped the hair on the back of her head and yanked, bringing her face up for the Soldier to see her. 

“Watch her, soldier. Watch as the light leaves her eyes. Watch and remember what you are.” 

And he pulled the trigger. 

———

Is the shadows, looking into the room from a safe distance, Nakia barely restrained a cry. Laila jerked with a pained sound then sagged in between two Hydra agents, her head being forced to face Bucky. Finally, her head was released and she slumped forward, limp and motionless, between the agents. The agents released her unceremoniously and she fell forward onto her front and didn’t move. Bucky remained rooted to his spot, surrounded by agents. 

“Yego grebanyy plach!” One of the Hydra agents walked up to Bucky and swiped at his cheek. The man didn’t move a muscle. 

Nakia looked closer. Her limited knowledge of Russian told her that the agent was deriding Bucky for crying and indeed, she saw two tears tracing their way down his cheeks. 

Come on, get out of here— Nakia pulled out her phone and dialed the police, reporting hearing a gunshot. Within seconds, she heard the sirens. 

“Vremya ukhodit—“ The man that had shot Laila waved his arm and the squad began to leave. Bucky remained in his spot, staring down at her body.

———

_“Please, let me say goodbye to her, please…”_

_We do not have time, we must follow orders._

_“Please.”_

_The Soldier kneels by the body and allows the host to run his flesh hand on her cheek and through her hair. She was the only one to show him kindness ever in his existence and she had trusted him to protect her but she didn’t have the code words and he isn’t allowed to protect those that don’t have the code words..._

_I am sorry._

_“Fucking hell, Laila, I’m so sorry—“_

_The Soldier, grieving as well, relinquishes some control and the host rolls over the body. She’s barely breathing and it’s slowing by the second. With the host’s pleading and directions, he rips off a section of his shirt and presses it to the woman’s chest where the knife sank in. He presses another section to the side where the bullet penetrated her body and yet another to the exit wound. He is not knowledgeable in the art of healing but the host tells him that this will buy her some time._

_Sirens wail in the distance as the Soldier allows the host to gather the woman in his arms and weep into her hair. She shudders once and her breathing slows._

_The Handler calls him._

_We are out of time. We need to leave._

_The host reaches into his shirt and pulls out the one thing Hydra had not taken from him: his army ID tags. He kisses them and puts them in her hand and squeezes it closed._

_And the Soldier puts his hand on the woman’s cheek then pulls the host away from the body, leaving her on the ground._

———

Karpov prattled on excitedly about new plans. The Soldier sat, stoic and motionless, in the back of the SUV. 

“—of course, you’ll need reconditioning—better to forget this place. Better to forget her, eh?”

_On this, the Soldier silently disagrees: I do not want to forget her._

_“Kill Karpov—“ the host pleads._

_We cannot kill the Handler—_

_The host tries to protest, but the Soldier cuts him off._

_—but that does not mean we cannot kill the others._

_The Soldier reaches out and crushes the windpipe of the agent next to him, the one who had made fun of him. His firearm goes off, the round striking and killing the driver._

_And as Karpov scrambles away from the ensuing wreck and disappears into the night, the Soldier allows the host his revenge, lending strength where the host desired. The bikers, the agents, all of them, they suffer and die at the hands of the man they had wronged._

_There are no survivors beyond Karpov._

———

Nakia pressed her hands over Laila’s bloodied stomach and side. The wounded woman hardly flinched. “Come on Laila, don’t give up on me—“

Once the squad of men had left, Nakia stole into the room to Laila’s still form. She had checked the woman’s pulse to find it weak and thready. The woman’s eyes opened halfway. “Don’t try to talk—help is on its way—“ Nakia pulled a stabilizing kimoyo bead off of her bracelet and inserted the bead into the bullet wound, following suit with the stab wound.

A tear rolled down Laila’s cheek and she gasped once, twice and was still.

The medics came into the alley shortly afterwards. They put Laila on the gurney and wheeled her into the ambulance. When Nakia tried to follow her into the cab, the medic pushed her gently back. She ran back to her bike and followed the ambulance to the hospital, then watched with despair as they wheeled her into surgery, a medic pumping on her chest.

Nakia waited in the living room. The TV blared the news in Romanian about an SUV accident with multiple casualties, then someone flipped it over to cartoons for some small children. 

She put her head in her hands.


	16. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging with me; be sure to catch the next installment, publish date probably soon!

_Blood._

_Anger._

_Rage._

_Mission._

_What is the mission?_

_Revenge._

_Horror._

_Why?_

_Terror._

_Whose blood is this?_

_Dark._

———

Bucky came to in his apartment. He was covered in blood and his clothes were in tatters. The apartment fared no better; it looked as if someone had thrown a massive tantrum. Furniture was destroyed, the glassware was shattered and appliances lay in pieces on the floor. 

Bucky felt something in his hand.

It was Laila’s SHIELD badge. He didn’t even remember grabbing it.

He reared back his head back and screamed out his grief to the ceiling.

———

 _“She’s still got a pulse—get her into the OR!”_

_Pain._

_Blur._

_“We’re losing her!”_

_Shock._

_Black._

_“CLEAR!”_

_Cold._

_Warm._

_“She’s back. Get her stitched up.”_

———

**Two months later**

“Doc? Shit—NURSE!!”

A panicked voice jolted Laila awake. 

Nakia rushed into the room seconds before the doctor did. “Laila?!” 

The sound of alarms and alerts disoriented her and Laila began to hyperventilate. A nurse slipped an oxygen mask over her face. “Easy, Doc, easy.” 

As Laila’s heart rate and breathing evened out, she looked around. 

“We are in Vienna, Austria.” Nakia sat at Laila’s side. “No, don’t try to sit up—stay down. You were hurt pretty bad.” 

Laila lay back on the pillow and the nurse read her vitals, then left. Her stomach roiled and she fought the urge to throw up—

—unsuccessfully. Nakia brought her a trash can. 

Voice still hoarse from disuse and distorted by the vomiting, she whispered: “Where’s Bucky?” 

Nakia looked away. “After I found you, he disappeared. I have not been able to track him down.” 

Despite her grogginess, Laila picked up on the other woman’s tone: “...what is it you’re not telling me, Nakia?”

Nakia silently turned on the television. In German-accented English, the male announcer emotionlessly spoke: “...no word on where this man might be. With twelve dead, including Wakanda’s King T’Chaka, we can only hope this man is found and brought to justice—“ 

A blurry picture of what appeared to be James Buchanan Barnes showed itself on the TV. “Days after the bombing, the hunt is still on for—“ Nakia turned off the television.

“No.” Laila shook her head. “It’s not—it can’t be him—“ 

Nakia leaned over Laila with rage filled tears in her eyes. “Your ‘job’ cost me my king, Laila; you had better come up with something else.” 

When Laila didn’t say anything, Nakia reared back and slapped her. The orderlies filed in and grabbed her. “Damn it, Laila, I trusted you! You KNEW—!” She let out what Laila assumed were Xhosa expletives and the orderlies tried unsuccessfully to drag her from the room. 

“Nakia.” 

A calm, accented voice spoke her name with authority. A tall, dark skinned man strode into the room. Dressed in a suit with blood and dust spattered over it, his presence not only exuded authority, but commanded it. “She has been in a coma for two months; you cannot expect her to know what is going on.”

To Laila: “I am sorry for my associate’s conduct; we are deep in mourning for my father.” 

Father…? “You’re…” 

“I am T’Challa.” T’Challa inclined his head. “If you know anything about this man, this Barnes, I need to know it.” 

“Please, your highness… please don’t hurt him,” Laila begged. “This isn’t him, I’ve been working with him for months. Please—“

T’Challa did not speak, just turned on his heel and walked away, Nakia following him. Neither looked at her. 

———

The nurse reading her vitals later that evening was entirely too chipper for the mood Laila was in. “...there we go,” he said, removing her blood pressure cuff. “And now we’re going to go see the obstetrician…” 

It was only as Laila was being wheeled down the hall did she realize what the nurse had said.


End file.
